


Liebestraum

by lunchbucket



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Classical Music, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New York City, New York Philharmonic, Pianist Remus, Piano, Rachmaninoff, Slow Burn, Symphony - Freeform, Violinist Sirius, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 101,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchbucket/pseuds/lunchbucket
Summary: “Do you still have a lot of friends in the area, then?”“None,” Remus answered simply, which felt much easier than explaining at the level of detail that the question actually deserved.





	1. Chapter 1

Remus tapped two fingers against the bar as he lifted his glass for another swig of beer, shifting his weight to his right foot and back again. He couldn’t get hammered tonight, nothing close to that. But with the anxiety that had been building inside of him since he returned to New York, he sure wanted to. He could have two or three beers, though, and maybe something else would work out tonight to take the rest of the edge off.

He looked around the place, something like a mix of a speakeasy and a dive bar, but completely unironic. It was a bar that he had never been to during the four years he had practically lived in the area, a key reason why he had chosen it tonight. Another reason was that the bar was close by, a few blocks from where the symphony was putting him up for the next month over in the Upper West Side — and it was decidedly far enough away from Brooklyn, he considered as he twisted his glass around on the coaster. Remus thought with a mild jolt of optimism that overall, the night wasn’t panning out quite as horribly as expected, especially considering the certified mess that was currently taking up all the space in his brain.

He took another drink as his left hand instinctively tapped out a familiar arpeggio against the mahogany. Maybe he should have just stayed at the apartment and blown off steam in his usual way — his fingers were clearly itching for that, he told himself as his eyes shifted down to his hand. Plus, it was so much simpler when no one else was a part of the equation, wasn’t it? He sighed and his eyes darted around the room quickly. He promised himself that he would only wait there for five more minutes before heading back to his temporary home. Or maybe just four.

“Remus?” 

He was taken out of his thoughts by a deep voice that immediately pulled his gaze back up and back to reality. He met the eyes of a man who looked exactly like Remus had expected from his pictures, but even better actually — warm green eyes contrasted against dirty blonde hair, longer than the photos, Remus noticed as his eyes roamed the man’s face in front of him, so that a few locks were framing his stubbled jaw. 

Remus felt something unlock inside his chest. “Oh, hi Andrew,” Remus said as he smiled at the man who took a seat next to him — he felt more at ease already and vetoed all thoughts of going back home early. Andrew held his eye contact for a couple of moments, a coy smile etching itself on his face, and Remus surmised he must also be pleased with the initial impression that he had made as well. Remus mirrored the smile back before Andrew broke their gaze when the bartender approached to ask what he wanted to drink.

“Sorry I’m late,” Andrew started as his eyes flicked back over to focus in on Remus, “the subway is shit.” Remus hummed as he lifted his beer to his lips. It was a valid reason, further strengthened by the immediate attraction he felt for the other man — definitely compelling enough to take his mind off of tomorrow, and that was saying something.

“Enough said,” Remus assured him as he tilted his head to the side. “Glad you were up for joining me here. Braving rush hour and all that.” 

“It was worth it.” Andrew paused and laughed a breathy sound before adding, “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

Remus lowered his eyes to the bar and laughed quietly in response, feeling the heat creep up his neck. Why had he been so nervous about getting back on a dating app in New York City again? This was about to be the most straightforward hookup he would ever have. The two men made eye contact again as Remus’ fingers resumed their tapping against the bar, thinking that they probably should have some sort of conversation before heading back to his place. That usually made things more comfortable, although he had already felt his nerves dissipate quite soundly the moment Andrew sat down.

“How long have you lived here?” Remus asked after a moment.

“Four years. I moved here right after graduating with my MBA — got a job with a big investment firm. But I’m from Connecticut so I’ve always been familiar with New York,” Andrew answered while maintaining firm eye contact, something that made Remus bite at the inside of his lip reflexively. It was as if the two of them were having another conversation between the words coming out of their mouths. One that they both knew would lead to something better later. “The job is a drag most of the time — utterly ridiculous hours — but I live with a couple good friends in Brooklyn, so it’s pretty great overall.” Andrew didn’t seem to notice Remus’ eyebrow twitch before he paused and leaned in closer, one elbow resting on the bar, “What about you, Remus? How long have you lived in the city?”

“Oh, well I don’t live here actually,” Remus replied, “haven’t for seven years.”

“I’m lucky I caught you while you were here, then,” Andrew said. His face was peeling into an enticing grin, and Remus hovered between thoroughly appreciating the forward nature of this interaction and trying his damndest not to think of the person those self-assured mannerisms reminded him of. “Just passing through for work or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Remus said noncommittally.

The left side of Andrew’s lips curled up, while Remus fought to keep the association at bay again, and asked, “Care to elaborate?”

Remus coughed, mostly for the opportunity to shake his head clear for a second. “I’m a concert pianist,” Remus explained, “I’m playing a concerto with the New York Philharmonic in two weeks.”

“Fuck,” Andrew supplied simply as his eyebrows rose, “so you’re really fucking talented.”

“I guess so,” Remus laughed. 

Andrew twisted in his seat to lean closer, and Remus was taken by the look of complete fascination on his face, “Where were you for the last seven years, then?”

“Working in Europe,” Remus answered, “I got an offer in Paris right after graduation. I grew up in Cleveland and had never been out of the country before, so it was like a dream come true in a lot of ways. Then I was able to teach and travel to different countries to perform.”

“Wow, that must have been incredible,” Andrew mused, then his voice deepened animatedly as he continued, “And my job somehow seems even less exciting now, which I didn’t realize was even possible.” 

Remus snorted softly, smiled, and shook his head before responding, “I’m sure you can see that replaying the same piano piece hundreds of thousands of times is far from exciting. I have so many days I want to smash my head against the wall, if for nothing more than to break up the monotony of it all. Imagine playing the same four measures over and over for days until your fingers finally get the timing right.”

Andrew laughed and nodded in vague understanding, his eyes flicking down to linger on Remus’ fingers before moving back up to his face. “I assume it’s worth it, though?”

Remus smiled. “It is. It’s my calling, and honestly, I would be lost without it.” Remus’ voice came out slightly quieter when he revealed that truth, and he found himself struck by the honesty of what he had just said — probably something he had never said aloud before in such a simple way. The nights he couldn’t sleep being all the way across the ocean from his family, the first days after arriving in each unfamiliar, foreign city feeling like he would never gain his bearings back, the increasingly less frequent, but always there, nights when all he wanted to do was reach for his phone and dial a number that he could delete from his contact list but not from his memory — he always had turned to the piano instead. Not only had the piano always offered him a perfect outlet for every emotion imaginable, but once he was lost in the flow and exhalation of creating sound, the focus also kept him from making decisions that he would have undoubtedly regretted later. The greatest distraction, really. And the most beautiful.

“How do you feel about being back in New York?” Remus was pulled out of his thoughts and back into the conversation by Andrew’s voice again. Back into this bar, where he sitting across from the first guy he had connected with so quickly in a long while. “Were you disappointed to leave Europe?”

Remus shook his head. “No, it was time. Seven years was the right amount, if not a little too long,” Remus reflected before nodding to the bartender to confirm that he’d have another beer. Andrew did the same. Once she had placed the new glasses in front of them, Remus answered Andrew’s first question. “It feels great to be back here, although a little strange. I went to college in the Upper West Side—”

“Julliard?” Andrew interrupted with eyes a little wider than before. Remus merely nodded and paused for a second before continuing. 

“—but, like I said, it’s been a long time away. It feels like it’s my home but it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Or maybe it’s exactly the same and I’m what has changed, so maybe I just don’t belong here anymore.” Remus stopped his train of thought once he recognized how abstract and nonsensical it was becoming. He chuckled breathily and ruffled his hair; it was not the appropriate time, nor was he in the appropriate company, to be having this conversation. “Sorry, I’m being ridiculous, ignore all that,” Remus said while waving a hand. He shot Andrew a bashful smile, hoping he hadn’t scared him off.

“No, you’re adorable,” Andrew supplied before he let the tips of his fingers graze lightly along Remus’ knee, hesitant at first, but when Remus didn’t pull away from the touch, he rested his hand there, the warmth reaching into Remus’ bones. “Do you still have a lot of friends in the area, then?”

“None,” Remus answered simply, which was much easier than explaining at the level of detail that the question actually deserved; again he doubted that it was an appropriate conversation to have with a guy he just met from a hookup app. Plus, he hadn’t wanted to think about that particular topic since he left New York the first time, and he most certainly didn’t want to start now. Instead, he leaned forward and moved his hand down to his knee as well, fingers entangling with the other man’s. He shrugged, began to rub Andrew’s hand with his thumb as he explained in a short but open tone, and expert-level acting, he thought, “I guess we all just lost touch.”

Andrew’s eyes flicked to Remus’ mouth and back. “Doesn’t it get a bit lonely, always being in a new place?” he asked with just a hint of the coy smile from earlier, but mostly a look of sincere interest.

“It does,” Remus replied plainly; it wasn’t something that could be denied, and he wasn’t going to try to, “but that just comes with the territory of being a travelling musician, I suppose. I don’t like to dwell on it. It just is.” Remus shrugged, wishing that it really was that easy. 

Andrew hummed. “Any chance you’ll be settling down soon?”

“I hope so,” Remus huffed before grabbing for his drink again, “I’m actually hoping to find a permanent place and stick around New York for a while. I’ve gotten enough interest lately, so maybe it‘s time.” Remus knew that it was indeed ‘time’, for reasons beyond what he cared to share right now. And even though New York City certainly wasn’t where he felt he should be, it was a central enough location in the States and it offered the career opportunities that he wanted.

“What about you?” Remus quickly segued, eager to shift the topic away from himself, “Is New York keeping you fulfilled?”

“Oh, it has its moments,” Andrew spoke with the same smile that had been painted on his face for most of their conversation, and his eyes remained fixed on Remus as if he were the only person in the bar. He leaned forward slowly until his forehead was pressed against Remus’, and Remus allowed him to use their enclasped hands to pull him closer, a small but assertive gesture that made his body react an almost disproportionate amount. A wave of headiness washed over him, a reaction to the combination of the scent of whatever Andrew was wearing mixed with the malty sweetness of his breath.

Remus leaned forward to close the inch that Andrew had left between him, capturing his lips with feather-light hesitance until Andrew reciprocated eagerly and took the lead, moving his free hand to grasp the back of Remus’ neck before parting his lips with his own. Remus melted into it and turned his brain on autopilot as Andrew continued to deepen the kiss, feeling all the tension in his body and mind disappear completely.

“Want to go to your place?” Andrew murmured against his lips, his voice deeper than before, still not removing the hold he had on Remus’ neck and hand.

“Let’s go,” Remus whispered, lifting his eyes to meet Andrew’s. In another second, Andrew was on his feet, throwing some bills onto the bar, and then leading Remus out of the building, their hands still connected. 

“This way,” Remus instructed as he turned right and led them back to the apartment that was just a couple of blocks away. A feeling of gratitude to the universe shot through Remus’ body when he realized that he had not thought about tomorrow at all since Andrew had entered the bar, and smugly, he thought that it would stay that way for at least the next hour, maybe two. And then he would be able to sleep soundly and wake up well-rested for rehearsal. A solid plan.

They walked together in silence and only stopped one time when Andrew pressed Remus up against a brick building to kiss along his neck, sliding his hands under his shirt and along the lean planes of his stomach. When Remus became sufficiently worked up enough to not even care that this was occuring in public, Andrew stopped, leaned back with a wide grin, and pulled him along again. Remus surely did have a type, and he marveled at the fact that somehow the guy he had met for some one-time thing was exactly it.

Clothes came off the moment they entered the apartment and they wasted no time on conversation before making it to Remus’ bed. Remus allowed his mind to get lost in it, lost in a place that he rarely let himself go, and gave no credence to those deeper thoughts that recognized exactly what he was doing and knew exactly why it wasn’t a real solution. He could criticize himself later. Right now it was a band-aid. A colorful distraction. 

*****

Remus laid in bed a couple of hours, tossing and turning, and willing for sleep that would not come. He had walked Andrew to the door an hour and a half after they had arrived, relieved they were on the same page about that, and then crawled back into his bed feeling both exhausted and satiated. But it seemed that as the minutes ticked by, the more scattered his mind became — the more his metaphorical band-aid lost its stick. He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and shoved it in front of his face and screamed. It felt as if his blood was on fire and was burning through his entire body, and it occurred to him that he was a fucking moron to think he could run from this. 

He sat up and threw his feet onto the floor, laying his elbows onto his knees and curling forward to cradle his head in his hands. The act did more than he expected to ground him. He focused on his breathing, counting to eight on each inhale and exhaling for the same. Calming thoughts about his previous performances entered into his mind on his fourth inhale — they had all been successes, and the utter peace he felt when he performed was the best thing that he could focus on right now. The stretch and contraction of his fingers fluttering effortlessly along the keys, giving life to the most gorgeous melodies ever written; the feeling of complete confidence as his hands moved with no thinking required, as if guided by divine instinct. And, Remus thought, it would be the same tomorrow; being back in New York would not change that. 

But when thoughts of his former life in the city began to creep in and threaten the peace he had only just managed to create in his mind, he shook his head vigorously to shut them off. He stood up quickly and walked to the digital piano in the living room of the apartment, turning it on and placing the headphones over his ears. He wasn’t surprised when his hands moved on their own accord to the lower half of the keyboard and began the slow, solemn melody of Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata. The piece matched his own mood, and when his left hand moved to tremolo octaves, he felt the anxiety that had taken hold in his chest start to alchemize with each rapid press and pull of his fingers. 

This piece was one he had vowed to keep memorized his entire life for how much he loved it, to perform for others, yes, but more importantly, for himself. Since high school, this piece was a canvas for his emotions to express themselves, each private performance subtly reflecting his internal state. Tonight was no exception.

When he reached the recapitulation, he played more powerfully than usual as he recruited his shoulders and the weight of his body to push down with impossible force onto the keys, causing the usually lively melody to pick up a darker and more tempestuous tone, which he felt through the headphones and deep down into his soul.

Remus rushed through the coda, giving it an even more hurried cadence than written, and hunched over the keys with a deep sigh when the movement had finished. He realized his body was shaking slightly and his breath was rattling in his chest, as if he had just cried intensely. However, he supposed it was all about the same, and he let the music’s cathartic effect on him happen. Maybe tomorrow would go perfectly well and he would think about this night and feel silly, he thought, as he filled the back of his ribs with glorious air. He wanted to believe that that was what was going to happen.

But it wasn’t going to be like every fucking other time— it just wasn't. There was more to it here in New York, and as he sat leaning against his piano with his forehead in his hand, it crashed down on him that perhaps seven years away hadn’t really changed that much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First movement of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata (and also my favorite song to play!): [Pathetique](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79gzdskOGu4)
> 
> Spotify playlist if you'd like to follow along: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3KkaTk4i6Og4Pii0qUbOK7?si=Ift7zuDHSaWka5FcC2y3ag


	2. Chapter 2

Remus stepped out of the apartment building into the crisp autumn air, buttoning his coat closed as he yawned yet again, but not bothering to cover his mouth this time. He took a moment to let the old familiarity of the Upper West Side wash over him, and he looked after the receding form of a woman who whirred past him walking a mile a minute in a suit and heels— he was in New York City again, alright, he thought with a tired smile.

Remus was infinitely grateful that the first rehearsal didn’t start until 11am; if it had been earlier, he probably would have shown up as a rightful zombie, which was certainly not how he wanted to kick things off. They were going to be performing one of the most technically challenging compositions ever written, and he would need as much patience, focus, and stamina as he could muster in order to do the piece, and the ensemble, justice.

And although rehearsals for concertos were, in general, more complex and stressful than other solo piano performances — being the odd man out and all — he focused instead on the fact that he had the incredible opportunity to play the great Sergei Rachmaninoff in Lincoln Center before he was thirty years old. That alone was worth _any_ level of discomfort that came along with it. Remus had eventually come to the conclusion during the sleeplessness of the previous night that all of the angst he was feeling was only white noise surrounding the greatest opportunity he had ever been given.

As he walked, he found that everything around him was familiar but different, that uncanny feeling of coming back to an old stomping ground. Memories replayed in short, vivid bursts as he walked down the street toward his old favorite coffee shop, but surprisingly, the negative memories — mostly centered around botching auditions because of performance anxiety — took a backseat, and the prevalent feeling that emerged was one of accomplishment. He smiled nostalgically as he approached Julliard, at the fact he was back for a performance his younger self could never have predicted. Hell, he had been uncertain he could even make a living out of performing after graduation. But now he was here, and it clicked that this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. 

A few minutes later, with a blessed coffee in-hand, he found himself inside of David Geffen Hall, arriving half an hour before schedule to meet with the conductor. He generally liked to arrive early and get a feel for spaces before launching right into practice, it was just in his nature. 

Remus was excited to meet Minerva McGonagall in person, not only because he had admired her since she had become Music Director of the New York Philharmonic five years prior, but also because she was the reason that Remus was there. Minerva had been the one to reach out to Remus about the concerto about a year ago, having heard about his rarely-seen mastery of Rachmaninoff — a Russian virtuosic pianist and composer notorious for writing works that were nearly impossible for many pianists to play without fatiguing — from mutual acquaintances abroad. She had apparently been following his career since his graduation, and deciding that their 2019 program would benefit from an up-and-comer, she got into contact with Remus. He eagerly suggested the Third concerto, and she immediately agreed. It wasn’t a brand new piece for him — he’d performed it during his senior year at Julliard — but it did take several years for him to master at the time, and it was one he had dreamed of performing again someday professionally.

Remus was well-acquainted with David Geffen Hall and he quickly found Minerva’s office door and knocked softly. It opened seconds later, and he was greeted by the face of a woman he had admired for years now. She was tall and lean, exuding an immediate air of respect coupled with sharp intellect and a career’s worth of wisdom and accomplishment — the type of person, Remus thought to himself, who was worth listening to whenever she took the time to offer direction. He returned her smile immediately and felt a rush of something like joy when she pulled him in for a hug. They had spoken extensively over the phone about the performance, and he had the sense that it meant just as much to her as it did to him.

“Remus, it’s so good to finally meet you in person,” Minerva affirmed as she pulled back and gestured for Remus to take a seat in one of the armchairs at the front of the room. He slipped off his messenger bag and sat down, and Minerva moved to grab a notebook off of her desk before sitting down across from him.

They were silent for a moment while she regarded him with a smile. “And same to you, Minerva. Thank you again for this,” Remus said to her, shaking his head lightly in disbelief and letting out a small laugh, “I know I’m a broken record, but it’s such a dream come true.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Remus, you know I am absolutely thrilled you are here,” Minerva replied as she began to flip through her notebook briskly. She glanced back up at him over her thin glasses and chided with a half-smile, “A young American pianist who cut his teeth touring Europe and performed Rachmaninoff’s Third at age 20 without an ounce of fear? We sold out as soon as it was announced.” That was another one of the things that Remus admired about Minerva — she had an openness to both younger musicians and new musical styles that most other Music Directors did not. Music composition and performance was a fairly conservative artistic space that was resistant to change, something that bothered some musicians more than others. So he could understand why the musicians in her group would be so loyal to her and want to stick around.

Remus bit the inside of his lip and reeled himself back into the conversation quickly. “That’s fantastic,” he supplied with a smile. This was all new information to him, and he filed it away as another good omen for the day, and he would take all of them he could get. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Minerva flashed a smile in response before he felt her shift into the task at hand. “Now,” she said, eyeing him, “We’ve talked about the schedule on the phone, but let’s review the programming details once more together. The symphony has already had two full-day rehearsals without you, and I know many of the technical elements of this piece that might keep other pianists up at night will just be a matter of rekindling your muscle memory,” she explained plainly, “I will, however, work with you closely to achieve the right texture as a group, and as a warning, I can get particularly granular about piano phrasing and accents in service of that goal.” She paused as Remus nodded in understanding, then continued, “That said, I see the next four group rehearsals focusing primarily on the dialogue between piano and symphony, and seamlessly integrating both into one cohesive ensemble. That’s where we will need the most work.”

Remus nodded again, relieved that the symphony wouldn’t be rehearsing the piece all together for the first time that day— they were going to jump right in, which gave Remus no real downtime to think, and was exactly what he had been hoping for. Not to mention, as their conductor, Minerva was more than competent, and he was chomping at the bit for the opportunity to learn from her. 

Minerva smiled. “Fantastic. In terms of logistics, we’ll start from the top today and finalize the first movement. During our second rehearsal, we’ll work through the _Intermezzo_ , and during the third, the finale. That gives us time to pull it all together during our last rehearsal, and then we’ll have the full dress rehearsal in about 10 days. Does that work well for you?”

“That’s perfect,” Remus answered, thinking that the fourth rehearsal would likely be a harrowing all-day event, and given his unfortunate night, it would be nice to only work on the first movement today — the least technically challenging, since Rachmaninoff did in fact have a soul and wasn’t trying to outright send pianists into an early grave without a warm-up.

“Great,” Minerva said, sounding pleased with his agreeableness. A lot of pianists were far more particular than Remus when it came to rehearsals — debutantes, you could say — and he could sense her relief. “This is going to be great for your career, Remus. And we have such an extraordinary group of musicians. I think you’ll really enjoy these next few weeks with us.” 

Remus pressed his thumbnail into his knuckle. “I’m sure I will,” Remus responded generically, suddenly not feeling very talkative anymore. He took a shallow breath and asked Minerva, “Is there anything else we need to go over before rehearsal starts? Would it be alright if I started warming up on the piano? I don’t want to hold back the start of rehearsal or anything because my fingers are stiff.”

“No, that’s all,” Minerva offered, standing up and straightening her pants with her hands as she continued in a more amused tone, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am by how efficiently we’re already moving.” Remus followed suit and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder again with a small smile. “As we discussed, the piano is a Steinway, which I assume is what you usually play?”

“That’s right,” Remus confirmed as they exited her office and Minerva led them to the stage. They walked in silence for a minute, the heels of their shoes tapping an odd meter rhythm against the floor of the auditorium. 

He saw that a sleek, black grand piano was set up in the front center of the stage, with the symphony’s chairs and music stands arranged around it in a half-moon shape. One thing that Remus found so compelling about performing Rachmaninoff’s Third was the size of the symphony; it was much smaller than a Mozart or Beethoven concerto, much more intimate. However, as he looked around the room, his eyes instinctively landed on the strings section directly behind the piano. His nervous system reacted immediately, and for the first time, Remus wished that he was playing with a larger group around him, ‘intimacy’ be damned.

He strode quickly over to the piano, partially eager to get to work, and partially because he suddenly needed something to do with his hands. Minerva must have sensed his desire for focus because she said nothing further and headed over to the conductor’s podium instead. 

He removed his coat and set it onto the bench before walking around the perimeter of the piano, inspecting the fine instrument he was going to get to know over the course of the next several weeks. He sat down at the piano, rolled the sleeves of his button down shirt up to his forearms, and he let his left ear drop down to his shoulder before switching sides, loosening up his muscles and doing his best to turn off his mind. 

He closed his eyes and began his normal drills. He had already warmed up that morning, but was now working to get a feel for the piano. He noticed that the keys featured an almost identical weight to the instrument he learned this piece on originally, and he executed his normal drills without any issues. Remus moved on to various sections of the first movement, spending a significant amount of time running his fingers through the two cadenzas, where the movement’s two fiercest climaxes took place. 

Surrounding himself with the deep toccata-like quavers from the piano did exactly what Remus had hoped it would do. He was so focused that he didn’t even register the trickle of people who had begun to enter the stage until he looked up about fifteen minutes later. He checked his phone for the time, noting that there was still ten minutes until rehearsal was set to start. He felt his foot begin to nervously tap at the ground as he looked around and determined that about half the seats had been filled. Fuck. In ten minutes _every_ seat would be filled. He shook his head, as if it would get rid of the mess that had set up shop there and moved his hands back onto the piano to repeat the same section he had just finished. 

After eight more fairly agonizing minutes, Remus slowly looked up again and saw that the entire symphony seemed to have arrived. He twisted his head around more forcefully to survey the musicians, and the thought occurred to him that maybe he hadn’t been properly informed — maybe his information was old. A rush of hope and relief surged through him as he considered the very likely possibility that all of his worries had been for nothing. Remus exhaled slowly and relaxed his shoulders as he admired the room with fresh eyes, sitting up a little straighter when Minerva cleared her throat to begin the rehearsal. 

“Good morning,” she began, speaking up to ensure that she was heard over the cacophony of instruments being tuned. “As you are all aware, we have the privilege to be performing Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto with Remus Lupin in about two weeks’ time, and I am so thrilled that he is finally back in New York with us.” Remus smiled and turned to the rest of the symphony.

“Thanks for having me, everybody. I can’t tell you how honored I am to play alongside you,” he said genuinely with an open smile, feeling lighter than air as of 30 seconds ago. The other musicians responded with equal friendliness, calling out various greetings to him through the continued sound of nearly-tuned-but-not-quite-perfect instruments.

“Make sure to approach Remus after rehearsal and introduce yourselves,” Minerva advised, “the more we enjoy each others’ company, the more we can work together as one fluid unit.” 

Minerva continued on to describe the structure of the rehearsals, just as she had in her office; Remus shifted to his side to reach into his messenger bag, deciding that this was an appropriate time to zone out for a moment to organize his sheet music and set up. He had had the concerto completely memorized for about a year now and could probably play through most of the first two movements with his eyes closed. But there would be many times over the course of these rehearsals when he would need to jot down a note about timing or orchestration details, given he was now performing with the symphony. Remus sheathed a pencil inside the front pocket of his shirt, located the sheet music, and began to rifle through the pages to double-confirm that all was in the correct order.

“The dress rehearsal will be a week and a half from today, on the 20th at four in the afternoon, and — Ah!” Minerva stopped mid-sentence, and Remus tuned back in in case there was something new he needed to hear as he moved to set the music on the piano. “Mr. Black, so glad you could join us this morning.”

Remus felt his entire body freeze. As he registered the sharp echo of the side door closing, he felt more than heard the vibration of swift but unhurried footsteps approaching directly from behind. He closed his eyes — the assault on the rest of his senses too much to handle already— and he hoped that eliminating one would allow him to hold onto some shred of control. His arm remained hovering in space holding onto the sheet music, afraid that moving would cause it all to fly uselessly onto the floor. 

“Minnie, I am 30 seconds late. You barely had time to miss me.” And there it was, that signature timbre — deep and bright and melodic as ever. Remus inhaled sharply as he felt like he had been punched in the gut by that disembodied voice, feeling just as strong of a reaction to hearing it now as he had for the first time eleven years ago. Remus remained still, only moving to shut his eyes as tightly as he could, before opening them and staring straight ahead at the music score in front of him when Minerva began to reply.

“Thirty seconds later than our 11 o’clock start time,” Minerva clarified severely, “But, as I’m sure you are aware as a veteran of the symphony, Mr. Black, you’re instructed to get here early the day of the first rehearsal. You missed Mr. Lupin’s introduction.” 

“Remus and I went to Julliard together,” the voice continued simply, and Remus heard him sit down directly behind him not even five feet away and snap open his violin case. But even if Remus hadn’t heard the obvious signs, he would have known that Sirius was right there. Sirius’ presence had always felt loud and tangible to him, like some sort of electricity firing against his skin. “No introduction needed.”

“Oh, fantastic, I hadn’t put that together,” Minerva responded in a lighter tone now, as if this new information rendered his tardiness far less offensive, looking between the two. She turned her attention directly to Remus now, and he softened his posture to look less affected and brought his arm down to his side. He was sure he hadn’t succeeded, but Minerva didn’t seem to notice and continued anyway, “Mr. Black is a fantastic friend to have in this group. He’s always organizing the more ‘social’ outings for the symphony, shall we say.”

Remus couldn’t bring himself to verbally respond, mistrustful of his voice in that moment. He merely nodded and smiled at her before turning his focus back to the piano, letting out a tight breath when Minerva resumed her instructions for the group. Remus lifted his hands to the keys and thought for a moment about turning around. He wondered if the memory in his mind was still accurate or, alternatively, if his subconscious had morphed it at some point into an exaggerated version of the truth. But he wasn’t going to turn around, not until rehearsal was over. His sense of self-preservation outweighed the curiosity and he felt his mind zone back in on the notes splayed across the page, thanking God that he had a piano in front of him.

The rehearsal went smoothly after that — well, as smoothly as Remus could hope for — particularly once his heart-rate returned to normal. He fumbled the timing of the first theme, which folds in directly after the simple march-like introduction from the strings. Although unlike him, he knew his flub was more of a self-fulfilling prophecy than anything else; and he got the melody’s delicate timing on the second try.

A few minutes into rehearsal, the slate of his mind was wiped clean as his hands flew at a nearly impossible tempo along the keys, mirroring each other and overlapping at various points in a canon-like cadenza; and he felt a particular lightness of being when they reached a section where flute, oboe, clarinet, and horn restated the first theme. Remus accompanied the brass and woodwinds with delicate arpeggios that made his fingers feel like tiny streams of running water — a reprieve from the storm so to speak — eventually ending the cadenza with a soft, rippling coda.

It would get better, he assured himself after they had completed a third full run of the first movement. He had expected some rockiness, but at the same time, that very bit of knowledge was the fountainhead of the nerves he experienced coming into the hall this morning in the first place. He hoped that despite feeling a bit off today for a variety of reasons, nobody else noticed it, and with a few more run-throughs, all would become second-nature. However, he knew one of the variables impacting his technique wasn’t something that would ever improve with practice, which was a concern he would reserve for another day. Remus had always been his biggest critic, and based on Minerva’s comments and direction, she seemed happy with the rehearsal overall and had very few suggestions for him — so he wasn’t going to worry about it for now.

“Outstanding run, everyone,” Minerva spoke up, “I think that’s enough for today. Thank you all for being so prepared ahead of time; I don’t anticipate that we will have any late nights or emergencies if all of our rehearsals go like this.”

Remus used his pencil to jot down his own thoughts and learnings from the rehearsal as Minerva detailed out the logistics of the coming weeks. He was already familiar with everything she was saying — the performance was the only reason he was in New York City, so it wasn’t as if he had any scheduling conflicts that made the dates difficult to keep track of. As she spoke, Remus half-listened while scribbling out specific focus areas for his return to the auditorium later that night. Normally he would just stay behind to get another couple hours of practice under his belt and free up the rest of his night, but today, he needed to take a breather before returning to the piano.

When Minerva dismissed them for the day, Remus continued to remain where he was, taking his time in carefully notating the score while the information was still fresh and allowing the others around him time to pack up and start to leave. A few musicians came up to introduce themselves a minute later: Gideon, who played the timpani, Caradoc, a bassoonist, and Mary, who played the french horn — Remus noted that she was particularly sweet, somebody he’d like to strike up a conversation with on a day he was feeling more like himself. They had approached him all at once, and he was more than grateful for the few minutes of conversation, or preoccupation, rather.

“You’ll have to come out with us one night, at least for a drink,” Gideon encouraged, and it sounded genuine, “a lot of us are big fans of yours, thanks to YouTube.” 

Remus laughed in surprise that he had a small following in the symphony, and he vaguely wondered if anyone else had shown interest in his past performances, then chided himself internally for the thought. He agreed to go out with them one night that week before the three of them headed back to finish packing up. 

Remus finally wrapped up his last note and tapped the eraser end of his pencil twice against the page to punctuate the task. He figured he had burned about ten minutes since Minerva dismissed the musicians, there was only a vague hum of chatter left in the hall, and Remus felt it safe enough to raise his eyes to plan his exit. He looked up from the piano and, as if drug there by a magnet, his gaze immediately landed on the person who had been on his mind the entire day.

Sirius was standing at the back of the room near the side exit, talking with a group of four other members of the symphony. His back was turned to him, and Remus figured he had about eight seconds of freedom to observe him before anyone would consider the possibility that he was staring.

Sirius’ hair was longer now, jet black as always and falling just past his shoulders, which were moving in an easy way to power the gestures he was making with his hands. The group around him laughed as he spoke, clearly enraptured by whatever he was talking about. That much had not changed, Remus thought — Sirius had always been the brightest light in a room, drawing people towards him like moths to a flame. 

Remus picked up his coat to slip it on slowly, and he chanced a look back up as he adjusted his collar. He thought that Sirius’ frame was broader now, although he was still just as lean; he had grown up, and Remus supposed that he had too. He wondered if anything about him had stood out to Sirius when he sat behind Remus that morning, then quashed that thought.

Remus turned away to grab his bag and waved a quick goodbye to Minerva before heading towards the exit, trying to focus only on the fresh air that awaited him outside and not on the people standing near the door he was approaching. He supposed he could have exited the way that he had come in, but some tiny yet loudly insistent part of himself urged him towards the door that everybody else was using, if only to feel like he was confronting his anxiety in some way that could be useful to him later.

He passed by the group, picking up that the conversation revolved around baseball playoffs of all things. In the short few seconds he was close enough to hear them, Remus determined that the Philharmonic had its own fantasy league, and Sirius was launching into a speech about his victory to the gal standing across from him — the cellist, Remus recalled — gloating that he had won thanks to a bad trade she had made. She responded with something along the lines of it having been a month now, and would he _ever_ let it go? Remus raised his eyebrows in curiosity because, well, that was new; Sirius could barely follow the rules of baseball when they’d first met. Remus could recall, in vivid detail, the one time he had taken Sirius to a Yankees game against the Indians, and how Sirius would not shut up about the baseball bat that was ‘practically children’s sized, for fuck’s sake’ in comparison to the one used in the ‘far more skill-based sport’ of cricket. Then he’d eaten an entire bag of in-shell peanuts. 

Remus reached the door, and the hinge creaked loudly as he pushed it open. He didn’t mean to catch Sirius break off mid-sentence, but he heard it anyway, and the pause hung in the air for a couple of seconds before the door swung shut behind him. Remus veered left and picked up the pace in the direction of his apartment, wanting to get far away from the possibility of running into somebody from the symphony who would recognize him and strike up a conversation. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself as he walked, the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto still running through his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite another restless night of staring at different points on the ceiling of his bedroom until 2am and practicing cadenzas in his head, Remus woke up early the next morning with the sun shining directly onto his eyelids through the window. He fumbled for his phone on the side table and was surprised to read 6:38am, given how rested he actually felt. He would probably crash brutally later that afternoon, but there was no rehearsal scheduled anyway — so bring on the day, he thought as he rolled himself out of bed.

Remus made an immediate bee-line for the shower. The warm water both relaxed and woke him up, and as he stood under the spray, he decided that spending the morning wandering aimlessly around Manhattan would do more for him than heading straight to the rehearsal space to work. The weather in New York City was mild, bordering on chilly in early November, so Remus slipped on his standard dark blue jeans and a pull-over sweater on top of his t-shirt. He grabbed a jacket on the way out and walked straight to his favorite coffee shop — he’d probably stop in twice a day while he was staying in the Upper West Side for how much he had missed constant access to quality drip coffee.

By 7:30am, Remus counted the morning as a resounding success, having already procured a coffee before the pre-work crowd arrived and tripled the length of the line. He made his way to Central Park and kept up the day’s theme of meandering aimlessly with absolutely no plan, mentally commending all of the admirable folks out running this early in the morning. He had missed all of this — the oasis of green nestled within a formidable concrete jungle, the electric pace of people moving with perhaps too much purpose, the dissonant sounds of the cars and bikes and buses weaving around one another to get somewhere — and in many ways, it really did feel like coming home. He wasn’t sure of the specific moment that the shift happened, but after about an hour of ambling around and re-absorbing the city’s personality around him, he felt at peace— more at peace than he had felt in years. Yeah, as uncomfortable as it was in some respects, he was ready to return for good. This was the right move.

He ventured back to the Upper West Side, noticed a breakfast spot that reminded him more of his midwest roots than Manhattan, and decided that he was suddenly starving. Taking advantage of the good mood he was in after weeks of fairly constant anxiety, he ordered both an omelet and waffles, as choosing between the two was simply impossible and he was enjoying this theme of just going with the flow too much to stop now.

Remus appreciated the Mom & Pop feel of the place as he waited, taking the first sip of his second cup of coffee that day. As his eyes fluttered around the aluminum signs featuring adorably hokey country sayings and decades-old family photos and newspaper clippings on the walls of the cafe, it occurred to him that perhaps the most difficult part of coming back to New York City was already behind him and it was only up from here anyway.

Remus pulled out his phone to check his e-mail, a task he usually wrapped up while he was still lying in bed, but had neglected that morning in an effort to get his day started sooner rather than later. He deleted the majority of them but flagged one from a Music Director in Philadelphia that he had been in contact with recently before exiting the app and pulling up Facebook. 

Remus as a person wasn’t particularly thrilled to be active on social media — it was too showy and he just didn’t get the point, but as a musician? He understood the need. As much as self-promotion made him deeply uncomfortable, he was getting better at posting videos of himself online and letting friends and followers know when and where he would be performing. His mother had been the biggest instigator and lovingly threatened to manage his accounts herself if he didn’t step up, so he gave in a few years back, if for no other reason than to keep anything that could be considered “work” for her to a minimum. He soon found that Facebook gave him line of sight into what the rest of the music world was doing, so it was valuable in that way too, and he couldn’t completely disregard it in a broad stroke.

His scrolling was interrupted by the apprehensive noise his waitress made, and a comment about not knowing where in the world he’s going to put it all, as she brought two truly giant plates of food over. He felt his face light up when they were placed in front of him and a saying crossed his mind about the simple pleasures in life. Remus placed his phone on the table for the time being and put his hands to work spreading peanut butter over the waffles before pouring just the right amount of maple syrup over them — okay, yes, it was a little too much syrup to be called anything but drowning them, but he was treating himself today. However, always practical, he forced himself to start on the omelet first, counting on the protein and fat to guard against the sugar rush the waffles would bring.

After working through about half of the omelet and a quarter of the waffle order, he set down his fork to prolong this exquisite breakfast experience. Slow, indulgent mornings of this magnitude were not something that he allowed himself often, and he wanted to stretch this out for as long as possible. The waitress came by in a moment of perfect timing and topped off his coffee, and he could have kissed her. Remus leaned back into the chair with a sigh, crossed his long legs at the ankle, and picked his phone back up with his free hand to finish checking his Facebook account while his other lifted the mug of hot coffee to his lips. 

It didn’t take long for him to notice the laundry list of message notifications staring at him, and he clicked on the icon without much thought. It wouldn’t be from anybody he had any sort of substantial relationship with — all of those people knew about how neglectful he was on social media and that a phone call was always the best way to reach him — probably just a spam message or a sweet note from somebody who had seen him perform, which always warmed his heart. 

But once the page loaded, his heart sank instead when he saw the name ‘James Potter’ stand out amongst the rest, someone who had seemed to have given up trying to get in touch with him years ago. And his day had been going so well, he thought, with a quiet sigh. He opened up the message and felt at least a small sense of relief that it was only a couple of sentences long. 

“ _Remus, I know you are back in New York. Give me a call or a text, and if you don’t I will hunt you down. Don’t make me do it.”_ James signed his name at the end along with a phone number, which — smart guy that he was — he had correctly assumed was no longer in Remus’ phone. Below that, he had added, “ _P.S. I freaking love you Rem! BUT I am still pissed at you.”_

Remus groaned louder than he had intended and then sent a grimace of apology to the other patrons who looked over to see what the fuss was about. He set his phone face down on the table, a knee-jerk reaction to the eerie feeling that James could see where Remus was through his camera or something, and ran his hand through his hair. Knowing James, he would stay true to his word and find some way to make contact with Remus — he could easily get the rehearsal schedule from Sirius or find out where the symphony-sponsored housing was if he dug deeply enough — so Remus calculated how much time he had before he would need to text or message him back. Probably a couple of days of leaving him on read, maybe a week tops. Remus wasn’t going to worry about it for now, at least not today. 

Remus walked out of the cafe half an hour later, ready to head over to Lincoln Center for his solo practice. It wouldn’t be a long session today, just a couple of hours to keep himself fresh for the next rehearsal. After stopping off at the apartment to pick up his notated score, he walked the couple of blocks to the music hall and went straight for the piano. The auditorium was blissfully empty, but Remus was sure that Minerva was in her office if he needed anything. 

A couple of the other musicians from the Philharmonic may have trickled in and out while Remus was practicing, but if they did, he didn’t notice. His hands felt powerful and clear as he transitioned from the first movement to the second, successfully implementing the minor changes that Minerva had instructed on the previous day without too much repetition needed. With no breaks for the orchestra, Remus maneuvered through the first two movements quickly, feeling as if he was regaining the ease and confidence missing from yesterday. At this point, although any amount of improvement was gratifying, he wasn’t going to feel right about his performance until he felt it in his entire body — that deep, core connection with the music that he would never be able to describe with words alone.

The rush of cold air that hit his face when he exited the music hall struck him like a freight train. The combination of being both cold and tired was the worst, in his opinion, and although his apartment was only a couple of blocks away, he opted for the coffee shop instead. If he pushed through the day without a nap, perhaps he would sleep better tonight — and he would do anything to wake up well-rested at this point. A few hours of exhaustion today to produce a consistent sleep schedule tonight was worth it, he reasoned with finality, as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and walked on. He had checked the time on his phone before he left the hall and was surprised to read that it was already 3pm — he had played longer than expected, but it still wasn’t too late for another boost of caffeine. 

After paying for his coffee and catching up for a few minutes with the barista he was ordering from for the second time that day, he carried his drink over to an empty table in the corner of the cafe. The barista, Amanda, had suggested that perhaps Remus was having trouble sleeping because of all the planets and asteroids in retrograde right now, and after laughing internally for a moment at that, Remus thought it was actually a pretty relevant point, and if nothing else, it was a nice trick of the mind to point to a new external reason for why he was feeling so off. He knew better, but he didn’t have to admit that to anyone.

Remus set his bag to the side and sorted through it until he was able to pull out the book lodged in the side pocket. He crossed his ankles and leaned forward on his elbow as he flipped to the dog-eared page of _Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking_. He felt the caffeine start to kick in about ten minutes later, mostly evidenced by his right leg that had started bouncing manically beneath the table. As always, he became engrossed in what he was focused on, completely unaware of how much time had passed. So engrossed that he didn’t even notice the familiar figure stride through the cafe doors until he pulled out the chair across from Remus. 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Remus jumped an embarrassing amount as he was jolted out of his reading, then re-focused with wide eyes on the person in front of him. The man’s unruly black hair contrasted starkly with the business attire he was wearing, and Remus shook his head, wondering why he ever thought he had a couple of extra days before the inevitable happened.

“Fuck, James, a little warning, maybe?” Remus said, running a self-soothing hand through his hair as he sat back.

James lifted his eyebrows and shook his head as if to suggest Remus had brought this all on himself and he didn’t feel the least bit sorry. “That’s what the Facebook message was for. I did promise to track you down, did I not?” He clicked his tongue and continued on, “And it’s nice to see you, too! You’re right, seven years _is_ far too long to go without reconnecting with one of your closest friends.”

Remus huffed, ignoring the defensive tightening he felt in his shoulders at that last part, “I only read that message this morning, fuck, you barely gave me any time to respond. And how did you even know I was here?” He suddenly wondered, mortified he might have accidentally turned his location setting on when he was on Facebook.

James shifted his weight to one elbow and lifted an open-palmed hand at him. “I sent it last night and I saw the ‘read’ notification early this morning. It’s been eight hours,” James said with conviction. He swung his hand back down to stack his forearm on top of the other, “And how did I know you were here? C’mon you made it too easy for me, you fucking creature of habit. As if the coffee shop you used to live at between classes wouldn’t be the first place I checked. And if I hadn’t found you here I would have just staked out your next rehearsal.” 

Remus wanted to kick himself for being so obvious, but he also wanted to kick James for being so damn incessant. On the other hand, Remus was actually kind of relieved that James had found him in the cafe. He would much rather have this interaction here when it was just the two of them, rather than outside of the rehearsal hall where James could very well pull his best friend into the mix.

“Can I go order a drink without you sneaking away?” James asked with a raised eyebrow and Remus felt a little better when he picked up on a hint of humor in the other man’s voice.

Remus rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth turning up, and assured him, “I’m not going to run away from you, James. We both know you’d chase me and tackle me to the ground anyway.”

“Good man,” James affirmed before slapping his hand down onto the table and standing up to walk over to the counter. Remus sighed and put his book away, preparing for the upcoming conversation, and moments later, James returned to the table with the largest sized drink in his hand, something iced and simple.

James was shaking the ice around in his drink to mix it up when Remus asked, “How are you even away from work right now? Or do you just get to take little excursions around the city whenever you feel like it?” He wondered why acting friendly felt so difficult right now. Probably due to the forced nature of the interaction, which Remus found always put him in a bit of a foul mood. He valued his autonomy far too much, but that was never something that James understood, so why would it change now.

“Perks of being a manager, buddy,” James chimed as he covered the straw with his mouth. “Plus, when you stay at the office until 10pm every night to make sure the work gets done, you have some freedom during the day for field trips.”

Remus nodded, not surprised James was still something of a workaholic, like their whole friend group had been. “Are you still at the same firm that recruited you out of school?”

“Sure am. Still living that Big Four dream,” James replied with an air of deep contentment as he lifted a hand to ruffle up his hair even more, if that were possible, “and now I have my own accounting blog that’s gone viral among the firms, so you could say I’m pretty invested.” Remus chuckled softly. Leave it to James to find such inspiration within the most stereotypically dry career path. Nothing was ever boring for him. 

“I’ll have to check it out,” Remus said sincerely, but James merely nodded in response and took another sip from the straw. He was quiet for a few moments, which was unusual, and Remus braced himself for whatever he was going to say next. 

He set his drink down and cleared his throat. “You know, Lily and I got married a couple of years ago.”

“I didn’t know that,” Remus admitted quietly. “Congratulations, though.” 

James plowed on, “She thought of every possible way to get in touch with you to send you an invitation, but I told her to give up. Even if she had gotten ahold of you, you wouldn’t have shown up, right?”

‘No, I wouldn’t have,” Remus conceded. He wasn’t one to make excuses, and he already felt like James had him pinned. There was no reason to lie about it. James exhaled loudly, as if he were trying to expel the frustration out of his body through his breath. It was an odd look for James. Remus couldn’t recall a time he had looked anything other than joyful. 

“You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” James said, voice coming out more gentle than the words were, “Like yeah, I’m happy to see you, and yeah, I have missed you a lot. But you really need to know that you’re an asshole. And an idiot.” 

“James, I had to do what was right for me,” Remus explained, pulling from his last reserve of energy to hold eye contact as he did.

James tipped his head to the side tightly. “You didn’t have to completely _disappear_ from every single one of your friends,” he retorted.

“I didn’t, James,” Remus answered back, “but I did have to completely disappear, as you say, from all of _his_ friends.” 

“That’s exactly where you’re an idiot,” James pushed, “We were your friends too.” 

Remus lolled his head to the side and fought the impulse to roll his eyes, sending James a knowing look instead. “Don’t act like Sirius wasn’t the glue that held us all together. Don’t feed me that bullshit.” Remus took a deep breath and sighed in frustration of his own. “Yes. Yes, we were friends. You and Lily were great to me, and I loved whenever we were all together. It was the first time I’d ever had a group of friends like that before, but it’s not like you were calling me up to hang out whenever Sirius wasn’t around.”

James squinted at Remus for a solid thirty seconds and Remus could almost hear the gears turning in his brain. Remus broke eye contact for a moment when it began to feel like too much, and when he looked back, James looked like he still hadn’t even blinked. A moment later, he spoke again. “What about that one time I surprised you and took you to Wicked?”

“James, I hate musicals—“

“Well that’s just ridiculous, you’re a freaking musician—” James cut in severely.

“I’ve always been upfront about how much I hate them, I don’t know why it’s still a shock to you,” Remus said, the corner of his mouth flicking up again at James’ tone, “ _And_ if I recall correctly, which I do, you had originally purchased those tickets for you and Sirius but he had an audition the next morning and couldn’t go.” 

“Fine,” James huffed before leaning back in his chair and relaxing his posture. “But Lily and I didn’t deserve radio silence from you. It’s not like we suddenly stopped caring about you just because you guys broke up.”

Remus nodded tightly. “I know, James, and I am sorry. If I were the same person back then that I am now, I would have handled it differently.” 

James gave him a slow nod, which Remus took to mean that he was satisfied with his response, at least at some level. He breathed an inaudible sigh and smiled at James for the first since his arrival. Even the air felt more calm around them, and James mirrored the same smile back at him. 

“Tell me about Europe, I want the highlight reel of everything in your life that I missed out on,” James said, finishing with a flourish of his hand, “Go.”

“Alright.” Remus nodded as he organized the best parts of the last seven years in a way that a listener could appreciate, then sucked in a breath, “Well, you remember I initially moved to Paris to teach at a conservatory?”

James nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course, you were so excited to be in Europe for the first time,” he said with a dreamy smile.

“Right,” Remus affirmed, “and the job was perfect. I made so many contacts through the school, absolutely loved teaching, and had a flexible enough schedule to where I could travel around for various performances. It was everything I wanted,” well, _almost_ everything, he couldn’t help but think, before continuing, “I performed in every single country I wanted to.”

“Fuck yeah you did,” James remarked with feeling. “What was your favorite place?”

“That I traveled to?” Remus specified, “Probably Dublin. Super friendly people in Ireland, plus it’s gorgeous, obviously, green on green on green. But my favorite of all had to be Paris though.”

“Oh yeah? Not surprised. Finally got to put that French to use?” James mused.

“That, yes,” Remus laughed. It had been a running joke in their old friend group that Remus was by far the nerdiest of them, even exceeding James and his love of niche accounting jokes, because had been able to become fluent in French while growing up in America — not an easy accomplishment. “Plus, I just loved the feel of it all, you know? I lived in this dingy little flat that was probably in a rougher part of the city than I ever let my parents know. I could barely afford anything beyond my subway card and food, but that’s all I really needed. I had my digital piano in my flat, an acoustic piano at the conservatory, and then any free time was spent exploring. It was my dream come true.” 

“Sounds like it,” James commented, and followed up a moment later as he adjusted more comfortably in his seat, “Okay, now tell me what your favorite performance was.”

Remus’ eyes widened as he lolled his head to the side in thought. “That’s a formidable task, James, it’s so hard to choose,” he said, pursing his lips as he racked his brain. “I have too many favorites, but I can definitely tell you the most memorable performance. I was performing a piece called ‘Where The Thread Begins’, by a young composer who is known for writing these crazy complex, spatialized pieces that can be really challenging to perform. Not your typical ‘read the score from left to right’ classical kind of writing.” Remus gestured wide with his hands as he continued, “It was a grand piano piece where instead of playing the keys the entire time, I was plucking the actual strings inside of the piano. It was wild to perform— I was hunched over the piano at points, stretching to reach the keys with one hand and the strings with the other. I actually had to work out more before the concert so that I had the core strength for it.”

James made an impressed sound before commenting in a tone of wonder, “Wow, that sounds like pretty experimental stuff, yeah?” When Remus nodded, he continued on, “I’ve been to a few orchestral concerts in the city over the past couple years, and — I don’t know the technical term, here — but some had these experimental new musicians showcased. One was a string quartet and the players were physically walking around the stage at various points, it was one of Sir—“ James cut himself off and shut his mouth before sending Remus a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Remus sighed out with a sad wave of his hand and shook his head, “I saw him with my own eyes and all that. Fully aware he still exists.” And Remus also knew about some of the work Sirius had been doing lately in addition to performing with the symphony. As small as the music world was, it was impossible to avoid hearing about somebody who offered up such groundbreaking and eccentric compositional ideas as he did.

“So, how long are you in town for?” James asked with a renewed energy, probably hoping that the brief mention of Sirius would just be a minor glitch in their conversation. “Just the performance in a couple of weeks and then heading back to Europe?” James added before lifting the straw up to his mouth again.

“Um, actually…” Remus felt his eyes dart around the cafe as the words tumbled around his brain for a couple seconds, avoiding coherence. He worked to bring his gaze back over to James and took another swig of coffee before saying, “I’m looking to move back here for good. Back to New York.”

“No shit,” James responded with surprise, a little too loudly, and a large grin grew slowly across his entire face. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“Uh, it’s not exactly exciting,” Remus said apologetically, “The opposite really. You remember my mom had a cancer scare during our sophomore year?”

James furrowed his brow and sent him a startled look. “Yeah… but she went into remission about a year later, right?”

Remus nodded in confirmation, “She did. But it’s come back — they caught it early, so that’s promising — but she’s not doing so well and I want to be closer.” Remus was quiet for a moment and looked down at the table. He hadn’t spoken of the reality of his mother’s health to anybody yet, and hearing it aloud made it feel so much more real. “Needless to say, Europe is just too far away, and I feel like spending most of my twenties there was long enough anyway. Not that New York is a quick drive to Cleveland or anything, but the flights are easy enough and I know I’ll have steady work here.”

“Shit, Remus, I’m so sorry,” James said and leaned forward. The gesture felt comforting to Remus, and for the first time in the interaction, he deeply appreciated that James was right there across from him. “You know if you need anything while you’re here, Lily and I want to be there for you.” 

“Thanks, James. I’ll keep that in mind,” Remus responded quietly. He continued a couple seconds later, “But anyway, I’ll be here for about three more weeks. A week after our final performance I’m flying home for a month, to be there for Christmas and New Years and kind of gauge how much I’m needed, you know? Since I’m not quite sure about how honest they are both being with me over the phone.” James nodded in understanding, and he blew out a gust of breath before finishing with, “And then hopefully after New Years, I’ll fly back here and move into a new place.”

James nodded and just looked at him for a moment. “Does Sirius know?” he asked.

“About what?” Remus clarified dryly.

“About your mom?” James confirmed, ignoring the perceptible shift in Remus’ tone, “And that you are moving back to New York?”

“Of course he doesn’t know, James. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this to him. We aren’t associated with each other anymore, it’s been seven years since we’ve even spoken, and this,” he gestured to the space between them, as if it represented the topics they had been discussing, “is all far too private for me.”

“Okay,” James said simply.

Remus blinked. “Thank you.”

A moment later, James started, “He’s missed—”

“Can we not, James?” Remus asked exasperatedly. “I’m not going to talk about this.”

“God, you sound just like him,” James said, rolling both his eyes and his head around dramatically, “So touchy, the both of you.”

Remus snorted louder than he had intended. “I’m sure he’s been just fine.” James said nothing in response but tapped his fingers on the table instead, probably wanting to avoid being snapped at again. “So how is Lily?”

James’ eyes lit up, like Remus expected they would, and he smiled at that as James answered, “Wonderful, she’s an RN now in labor and delivery. She loves it.” 

“Well that’s amazing — and so perfect for her,” Remus beamed, and any tension between him and James dissolved again. It was surreal, he caught himself thinking again, to see just how they had all grown up. James and Lily were married, and presumably blissfully happy, just as they had always planned. Apparently it was that simple for some people. 

James just looked at him for a few seconds again. “She told me to tell you that she misses you,” he said plainly, “And she wants to see you.” 

Remus nodded and thought for a moment. “Okay,” he said after a beat.

“Really?” James replied with a small surprised lift of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, really,” Remus confirmed with one nod, “Let’s plan on dinner one night. Preferably when you aren’t working until 10pm. And I want to hear a lot more about you two, this time, I feel like I was talking this whole visit.”

“Fantastic! Deal. Can I have your new phone number, then?” James asked directly, with a look which Remus interpreted as ‘I can’t believe I have to ask for your phone number again because you never told me when you changed it.’

“Yes,” Remus laughed lightly as he held out his hand, “Here, give me your phone, I’ll plug it in.” 

James obliged and smiled brightly when Remus handed his phone back, and he gazed at the new number as if it were a gift on Christmas morning. Remus felt himself melt a little bit, incredibly touched, and feeling a mixture of appreciation and guilt for how much James obviously cared about him. He wondered if it had always been like this between them and Remus simply hadn’t noticed before due to the larger-than-life personality that probably overshadowed their relationship in the past. 

“Do you already have a new apartment picked out then? For January?” James asked, pulling Remus out of his thoughts.

“Not yet,” Remus chuckled. He laughed because it was ridiculous. Finding housing in the city was a nightmare, and he had barely started even plotting out a search plan. 

James nodded emphatically, as anyone familiar with New York would, before asking, “Are you looking in Brooklyn again?”

“No,” Remus answered curtly before softening his tone, “Manhattan, preferably. If I don’t have any luck there, I’ll branch out somewhere else.”

James shook the ice and dug his straw to the bottom. “Lils and I bought a small townhouse in Hoboken a year ago,” he said before draining the last bit out.

“How very suburban of you,” Remus remarked, but hoping for his voice to come across impressed. He could picture it, minivan and all. James was probably dying to have kids soon. He wondered how Sirius felt about James’ transition into married adulthood before reminding himself that he didn’t care about that sort of thing anymore. 

“My destiny,” James proclaimed airily, “But in all seriousness, I’ll keep my ears open for you.” 

Remus smiled. “Thanks, James.” 

“Welp, I tracked you down, made contact, called you a couple of names — sorry about that by the way, but it really had to be done and now we can move on — got your phone number, and convinced you to meet us for dinner. I’d say my work here is done,” James said with satisfaction and stood up abruptly. Remus didn’t register that James was getting ready to leave, due to the quick nature of it, and James stared down at him with exasperation. “Come on Remus, I’m a very important businessman with people to manage and ‘accounting cat’ memes to create. Stand up and hug me goodbye, dammit.” 

Remus laughed and stood too, happy to obey that command. James pulled him in for a tight embrace, and Remus, who had never been much of a casual hugger, squeezed him back. James held onto him for a couple seconds longer than what Remus would have opted for, and when they pulled apart, James repeated, “We really did miss you, Rem. It’s great to have you back. And don’t forget that we are here for you if you need anything.”

“Text me about dinner?” Remus replied quickly, but with a smile, hoping that mentioning dinner plans would make up for his discomfort with sentimentality, particularly in public, and even more particularly when pertaining to himself.

“Doi,” James responded, his tone full of far more gravitas than the one-word response warranted. Remus laughed and sat back down, waving at James as he winked at Remus, turned around, and left the cafe.

Remus sighed again, but with relief this time. Their reconciliation had gone as well as he could imagine. It was actually great seeing James and hearing about Lily — he’d even go so far to say that he was happy that James mercilessly tracked him down against his will. What’s more, the interaction seemed to help him wake him up a little and stave off the inevitable crash a while longer.

He checked his phone and was surprised to see that it was already 5pm, unsure how two hours had passed so quickly, and how much of it had been spent reading versus talking to James. But he did know he was ready to retire back to the apartment for the rest of the night, where blissful solitude and his digital keyboard awaited. He could already tell it would be a Schubert sort of evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a difficult time successfully linking to YouTube videos, so I'm just going to paste the links below, and if you you're interested in listening to the songs, you can copy and paste the links into your browser or just look the songs up on YouTube. :)
> 
> Schubert/Liszt 'Ständchen' played by Khatia Buniatishvili: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlTTgJau33Q
> 
> Schubert 'Impromptu in A-Flat, Opus 90, No. 4' played by Vladmir Horowitz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OxsFdxmbso


	4. Chapter 4

Remus opened the door to the music hall with his signature coffee in hand and the suggestion of a smile on his face. He was only fifteen minutes early for rehearsal, not even the first one to arrive this time, and he filed that away as a positive — proof that his nerves were subsiding at least a little bit. And also evidence of the first bit of good sleep he’d had in weeks.

He sat down at the piano and waved to Mary as he removed his score from his bag, then quickly got started on his drills to warm up for the _intermezzo_ , or second movement, of Rach 3. Remus enjoyed the first section of the _intermezzo_ very much; the romantic melody always seemed to flow so easily. It was the pinnacle of dreaminess, in his opinion, an atmosphere so hard to create in life, but so accessible through music. 

Remus paused after one of the more dense and accelerated progressions of the movement when the tempo picks up and the meter shifts to ⅜; he wanted to remind himself to ask Minerva about the orchestration of this section, featuring some very delicate interplay between the woodwinds and piano, at some point. 

He reached down into his messenger bag for his pencil and was surprised when he didn’t feel it at the bottom. He lifted the bag on top of the bench and began to rifle through it more aggressively, sighing when he couldn’t find it and asking himself in what world he thought it would be a good idea to only carry a single pencil with him. It’s a law of the universe that carrying just one is a surefire way to lose it immediately. 

“Pssst, I have an extra pen if you need it.”

Remus turned around to locate the female voice, and he immediately recognized her as the brunette cellist who had been a part of the group congregated by the door during their previous rehearsal. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mused gratefully as she stood up to walk a few short steps over to him. 

“I’m Marlene,” she said as she handed him a blue ballpoint pen with a friendly smile on her face. Far less preferable to a pencil with an eraser, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers and all that. “I’m a big fan of yours,” Marlene added with an affectionate tilt of her chin, “I must have watched your performance of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody in Berlin about thirty times. I couldn’t get over how quickly your fingers moved, they just looked like a bunch of feathers in the wind or something. It was _freaky._ ”

Remus laughed out of his nose when she elongated the last word with comically wide eyes. “I’m glad you liked it,” he offered, “It’s only a nine minute piece, but it leaves me panting every time.” 

“I can see why,” Marlene said with an understanding nod. Then she suddenly pursed her lips, and Remus got the impression that she was debating about something in her head. She seemed to make up her mind quickly though, because she folded her arms and angled a hip forward before continuing a beat later, “A big group of us are grabbing drinks after rehearsal tonight, and it’s pretty necessary that you come with us.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Necessary, huh?”

“For the good of the performance, of course,” she said with a dramatic flourish of her hand, “The ‘flow of the ensemble as one unit’, as Minerva says, the ‘ _je ne sais quoi_ ’. Plus, I can tell you’re going to be a blast after a couple of shots. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Remus had to laugh at that. He liked Marlene; she had a natural charm, and Remus immediately felt a pull towards her, as if they were destined to become friends. It was cheesy, but not something he felt very often, so he was going to go with it. And if she was perceptive and caring enough to notice something small like a colleague in need of a writing utensil, well, that was pretty cool in his book.

“I’ll come,” Remus agreed without needing to think about it too hard. He heard Minerva’s heels making their way across the stage at that point, so he quickly thanked Marlene for the pen again before she gave him a thumbs-up and walked off to take her seat. 

Remus caught the sound of a familiar voice greeting her as he turned his head toward the conductor’s podium, and Remus realized that he hadn’t even noticed Sirius arrive. He also tossed this one into the small but growing pile of positives about today before Minerva greeted the musicians and launched into the programming. There were no surprises in the agenda, and Remus figured that it would be a relatively straightforward rehearsal, knock on wood. 

The first half of the day went smoothly, the woodwinds needing the most direction, which gave Remus an opportunity to focus on the broader phrasing Minerva was shaping and to take notes on how her instructions for them might influence his own performance. She didn’t have any specific comments for Remus yet, which made the hours drag by a little slowly, but he wasn’t complaining.

After two hours, Minerva announced a fifteen minute break, and the rest of the musicians sighed with relief. Remus got up to grab a water bottle at the back of the room, and when he’d returned to the stage, he noticed immediately that Sirius was nowhere in sight — as if he had Sirius sonar or something, he thought as he rolled his eyes at himself. It was a relief though; they were bound to speak at some point, and although a large part of Remus needed that inevitability to come to a head already so he could carry on with his job without this massive distraction, he also had no clue how he would react. Would he, could he, just be cordial and normal with Sirius? Or would he freeze up?

Marlene was sitting on the piano bench frenchbraiding her hair when he made his way to the stage, with Mary standing beside her. They were watching something on Marlene’s phone with a look of awe. 

Mary seemed to hear his footsteps approaching and glanced up at him. “You’re coming out with us tonight?” she asked giddily.

“Oh yeah, but it’s nothing big, right?” he asked, scrunching his nose, “Just casual?”

“Of course,” Mary answered easily with a dismissive wave, before Marlene turned the phone over to Remus to show him a video of a pre-teen girl performing possibly the oddest dance routine ever recorded. Remus wasn’t sure if he was more impressed or terrified by her broken robot mannerisms, but when halfway in she started yanking at her pigtails as if they were control levers on a machine, he decided that he had no desire to rewatch this ever again.

His attention was broken a moment later when Marlene glanced up from the phone she was holding against her crossed knee. “Hey, Siri,” she called out as Sirius approached, “You’re coming tonight, right?”

“Marls, when have I ever not?” Sirius answered as he lifted his violin to his thigh and sat down, and in a slightly bemused tone as if his answer to that question should have been obvious.

“Okay, good. Just making sure,” Marlene sing-songed. Catching that the break was nearly over, both she and Mary wrapped up with Remus and moved to take their respective places. 

Remus’ head turned instinctively in the direction that Marlene was walking, and as soon as she dropped to her seat, he was met with a pair of piercing gray eyes that seemed to look over at him at the same time. He blinked, almost as a physical defense, like he was giving his eyes a chance to adjust to a particularly bright light; but Sirius held his gaze a few moments as he adjusted the height of his music stand, his eyes both firm and soft at once. There was no tension behind them, and even though Remus’ body had gone a little numb, he still felt some sense of relief at that. 

Remus turned back around to the piano, and he took his time sliding his hands along the keys and into position. He had always assumed that time would eventually break whatever magnetic connection existed between them, but if that were true, he now knew that it would take a lot more than seven years for that to happen. He was relieved when Minerva’s voice cut off any thoughts unrelated to the performance, and she directed the ensemble to commence the last third of the movement.

*****

Rehearsal ended three and a half long hours later, and Remus noted that a couple of drinks sounded like the best thing in the world. It had been a somewhat grueling second half of the day, especially in contrast to the first rehearsal — there were some coordination hiccups when it came to the timing between strings, clarinet, and piano, and it took longer than expected to iron out. But they had gotten it eventually, an accomplishment worth the short-lived pain of constant repetition. 

Minerva called rehearsal after the third successful full run-through of the second movement, and Remus didn’t hang around waiting for the auditorium to clear this time — didn’t hold himself hostage just because his ex-boyfriend was in the same room. He got his things together and left relatively quickly, eager to shower and change his clothes before meeting the other musicians at the bar. They wanted to arrive early, just before the happy hour rush, to secure one of the larger tables. Not everybody was going to attend, but Marlene had estimated about a dozen would. 

He arrived at his apartment and jumped into the shower for a quick rinse. As he stood under the water, he realized that he hadn’t checked in with his parents in two days and lightly reprimanded himself for being a bad son. Now wasn’t the right time to give them a call, though — their conversations usually lasted two hours without even trying, and he didn’t have that kind of time to devote at the moment. Plus, he couldn’t help but think, with a small jolt of guilt, that he didn’t want to hear any news that may put a damper on his evening out. It wasn’t often he was in the mood to socialize, and he wanted to take advantage of it. And what’s more, he agreed with Minerva — he had found in the past that developing camaraderie with the group of musicians really did enhance their flow at performance time.

He shot his parents a quick text promising to call them when he got back that night, or the next morning at the very latest if he stayed out too late. 

Remus got dressed, pulled on his coat, and slipped his wallet into his back pocket before leaving the apartment. It was just before 5pm, and the air held that perfect late-fall crispness — his favorite time of the year in New York — and he found himself feeling a little more grateful to be back. 

He entered the bar a couple of minutes later and immediately heard his name called from the corner of the room. He acknowledged Mary and Gideon with a smile and removed his scarf as he walked over to them. About six others whom Remus recognized were already gathered around the table, and he waved a hello to them before sliding into the booth next to Mary. 

“We ordered a shit ton of appetizers if you’re hungry,” Mary informed him straight away, tucking a couple of her long braids behind one ear.

“Great, I’m starving,” Remus supplied as he peeled off his coat, wrapped his scarf in it, and tucked the wad of clothing behind his back.

“And we’ve got a couple pitchers of beer on the way. Plus we take turns ordering the craziest shots we can find, if you’re feeling particularly rambunctious,” Mary explained with a shimmy of her shoulders.

“Wow, that sounds terrible,” Remus responded dryly, and Mary laughed in agreement. He had never been a fan of shots, not even during his college years, so he would be keeping those to a minimum.

“Yeah, but it’s bonding, you know? I mean, can you ever truly know a person if you haven’t seen them throw up before?” she asked in a faux pensive tone.

“Yes,” Remus laughed pointedly, “I know for certain that you can—“

Two waiters interrupted their silly conversation by setting down four huge pitchers of beer and a tower of glasses. Remus grabbed two of the glasses and filled them to the top before placing one in front of Mary, cheersing her with the other, and lifting the glass to his lips.

“Remus!” 

Remus wheeled his head to the left, where Gideon was trying to wave him down from the other side of the table. “Hold up your hands!” he said, gesturing unnecessarily at one of his own.

Remus suppressed an eyeroll and smiled, lifting up his hands. He was quite familiar with this game — having the ability to cover 12 keys comfortably, 13 if he had to, with one hand did make him a certain sort of freak show — so he wasn’t surprised by the question. He was met with a chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” and wide eyes. Even the blonde guy at the end — Caradoc he thought it was? — started to applaud. 

“What are we celebrating?” Sirius had arrived at the table — completely out of nowhere, how did he do that, Remus thought to himself — carrying a tray of bright blue shots.

“Those gorgeous hands, obviously,” Marlene mused, smirking as she nodded in Remus’ direction, and the way that she met Sirius’ eyes revealed exactly how much she knew about their prior relationship. Everything. 

Remus took a long draw of his beer, nearly draining the rest of the glass in one go. He was looking away from Sirius, but was still totally aware that he had taken a seat at the opposite end of the table across from Marlene— there went the fucking Sirius sonar again. He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, focused on regaining his bearings, and reminded himself that there were about ten other people at the table. It was going to be fine, and there was no reason to be unnerved. He had ten human buffers separating him from Sirius, and this was a perfect chance to expand his network in New York City. He would stick around for a couple of hours, make some friends, and then head on home. It was going to be fine.

Remus took a deep breath and scrolled through his mental rolodex of conversation starters. “You all seem like great friends,” Remus observed.

“Definitely,” Mary confirmed, regarding Remus openly as she made a gesture at the table. “Of course, we’re only a fraction of the entire Philharmonic — this performance not requiring the whole symphony and all — but this is our core group. A lot of the other members with families usually stick to themselves. We all really enjoy getting to know each other during our performances, though,” she explained. When Remus nodded, she added after a beat, “But yeah, this group is particularly close, as you can tell. I’ll be crushed when someone eventually leaves.” She put on a pout.

“Yeah, I understand. It’s such a great gig isn’t it? Stability, solid paycheck, and then add friends on top of that,” Remus conceded, thinking of the fairly solo career he’d led as a pianist, never staying long enough with one symphony at a time to establish deep roots. “Really sounds perfect.” 

Mary nodded vigorously as she brought her glass of beer back down and swallowed. “It really is. It doesn’t get much better than this in the classical music world. Plus we get to use the recording studio for free, and there is a lot of flexibility when we aren’t performing, so a lot of us take advantage of that.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t even think about that,” Remus commented, “Yes, a pretty fantastic perk.” 

Mary hummed in agreement and added, “Right, and we have some awesome collaborations going on right now.” 

Their conversation was interrupted as the waiter leaned in between them to put out a spread of various plates, mostly rich appetizers, but he noticed someone had made a valiant attempt at ordering some healthy sides of vegetables too. Remus zoned out as he piled one of the small serving plates full of food, reminding himself to buy the next round of shots for everyone. He remembered as he tucked in that he hadn’t eaten much that day, save for the salad he inhaled right after rehearsal at his apartment, and he was feeling peckish. But after getting a few bites of food in him, he felt his energy leveling up — and realized that he was in the middle of a conversation with Mary before the food came. He laughed to himself and leaned over toward her in apology. 

“Sorry Mary, I don’t eat enough during the day. I get too absorbed. It’s a bad habit,” Remus explained sheepishly as she took a bite of a spring roll. “You were telling me about some collaborations?”

“You’re fine,” Mary laughed, covering her mouth, “that fucking piano score must be the equivalent of running ten miles or something.” She paused and spooned some artichoke dip onto both of their plates before continuing, “Tons of compositions from this group though. Have you met Benjy yet?”

“No,” Remus shook his head and passed the dip down the table.

Mary hummed. “Big, tanned white guy? Buzzed blonde hair? He plays the flute, oddly enough?”

“Yes!” Remus laughed and grabbed at Mary’s wrist once the association clicked into place. “He’s hard to miss. Seems like a character, I love it.”

Mary nodded emphatically and grinned at Remus’ reaction. “Sure is,” she said, “and he should be here soon. You’ve got to meet him, he’s hilarious. Chose the flute as a joke in fifth grade band and was horrified to discover how quickly he fell in love with it.”

“Oh my god, that’s fantastic,” Remus said.

“He wrote an incredible jazz piece a couple months ago, very popular in that circle. Definitely the flyest jazz flutist around,” she offered, giving credit where credit was due, “so he’s a blast to watch.” 

“I need to look this up,” Remus said, redirecting his attention down to stab at a roasted Brussels sprout, “I don’t think I can live my life any longer without it.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Mary laughed before continuing, “I play regularly with an R&B group and collaborate with them on the compositions, and then Caradoc recently covered Adele’s “Hello” on bassoon — not something you’d ever expect. Sirius threw some violin in there, mixed in some Tchaikovsky. _Super_ fucking cool.”

“I bet,” Remus said, going for his beer.

Mary plowed on, apparently catching her second wind now too, “and don’t even get me started on Sirius — the bastard is too fucking talented for his own good. But you went to school with him, yeah? I’m sure you see his stuff online all the time.” The way that she spoke so casually about Sirius led Remus to believe that she knew far less than Marlene. He just nodded in response and took his time bringing the glass back down.

“Covering popular songs is like… the least impressive thing he does, which is saying _a lot_ because he has some amazing covers,” she added, and then clutched a hand at her heart before continuing on, “But his compositions make me numb. His harmonies and counterpoint are so unlike anything you hear in classical music, but they also aren’t hard to understand or feel inaccessible like modern compositions can. Everything he writes is so emotional and raw and _beautiful_ — he really connects to your soul.” Mary hummed softly and reached for a chicken skewer, “Well, _my_ soul at least.”

“No, you’re right. I get what you mean. He’s been like that since I met him at Julliard,” Remus admitted evenly as he poured himself another glass of beer and topped off Mary’s as well, “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Infuriatingly talented, expressive in a way that pierces right into you, always pushing the envelope. And he makes it look so effortless — he just does it.”

“Right,” Mary responded, and Remus commended himself for having the wherewithal to engage in this conversation. But everything he said was just basic fact, things that everybody who knew Sirius was already well aware of. “I know he loves the Philharmonic, loves the community of it all, but I wonder how much longer he’ll stick around, you know?” Mary offered open-endedly, scooping ceviche onto a chip.

Remus only hummed in response this time, holding his tongue on the topic of Sirius and loyalty. It would have been petty anyway; it was years later and a far different situation entirely. 

“Okay,” Remus chimed after a moment had passed. “I’m going to go procure this fine table another round of shots since I haven’t paid for anything yet. But I’m sticking to vodka — alcohol isn’t supposed to be blue,” he said with a wrinkle of his nose as he swung his legs around and stood up.

“I’m sure nobody will complain,” Mary chuckled as she slid out of the booth too. “I’m going to head to the ladies’ room, be right back,” she explained and patted his shoulder as she walked away.

Remus responded with a comment about seeing her on the other side and immediately wanted to punch himself in the face for it, but just walked over to the bar instead. He ordered 15 shots of vodka and waited at the bar for them, despite the bartender insisting that he would be happy to bring them over to the table if he wanted to rejoin the party. He looked behind him and noticed that Benjy, the world’s most muscular flutist, had arrived. The table was practically full now and easily the loudest in the room. He’d just wait up here.

The bartender eventually placed all 15 shots on a tray, and Remus carried them over to the table— it was harder than it looked, especially for a person as tall as Remus with practically no center of gravity. He was immediately greeted by cheers when he arrived with the shots, including a particularly loud whooping sound from Gideon, and the oddly verbatim words of “hoots and hollers!” from Benjy, both of which made his shoulders shake with silent laughter. He set the tray down and turned to make his way back to his seat when Marlene’s voice stopped him.

“No, Lupin, you’re taking a shot with us. Actually, you know what? You’re taking two,” she yelled with enthusiasm from across the table. “Or you - can’t - sit - with - us!” she staccatoed jokingly. 

Not wanting to be a buzzkill, but even more so just keen to get the attention of the entire table off of him, Remus shook his head and grabbed a shot of vodka in each hand. The table seemed to settle down a little once he knocked back the first shot right then and there with them, and then celebrated with another collective cheer when he downed the second one on the walk back to his seat. He felt the warmth of the alcohol blooming pleasantly in his chest as he slid into the booth, then briefly wondered why Mary hadn’t returned yet, before spotting her at the bar chatting it up with a cute guy. Good for her. He opted to pull out his phone to scroll through reddit for some entertainment until she got back.

“Hello.”

Remus felt himself nearly jump out of his skin as he turned to see Sirius sliding in next to him. His eyes widened, and Sirius looked down for a moment and laughed softly — damn him, even that was music. 

Remus coughed in an effort to clear his throat. “Hi,” he said. He reached for his beer like it was a life raft and took a deep, long drink, except oops, that was Mary’s, he realized after a second. Fuck it, he was committed. Remus eventually set the glass back down and raised his eyebrows a micron as they looked at each other.

Sirius lolled his head to the side, and Remus felt the other man’s eyes taking in his face for the first time in seven years. At least Marlene had forced him to take those shots, Remus thought; he certainly wouldn’t have been able to handle this completely sober. He may have become more comfortable merely existing in the same room as Sirius over the last 48 hours, but this was a whole different ball-game.

“ _Ça va?”_ Sirius asked with a harmless smile, but Remus still felt his heart plummet through the floor. He fought to keep his expression even, but he was sure that he failed, one of the cons of approaching this conversation plied with alcohol.

“I’m good,” Remus responded hoarsely after a few beats of silence, refusing to take the bait. Refusing to even acknowledge it. Sirius wrinkled his nose for a split-second but continued on a brief moment later. 

“I heard that James tracked you down already. He’s quite proud of himself for that; considering a new career in private investigation now.”

Remus hummed and shook his head. “He couldn’t do it,” he started as he located the pitcher to refill the glass, mostly because he wanted something to do with his hands, and finding actually that the more words he spoke, the easier it became, “doesn’t offer nearly the thrill that accounting does.”

Sirius smiled in acknowledgment but he didn’t say anything else, as if he were savoring the silence between them, the very same silence that was threatening to drive Remus insane. It was as if Sirius knew that sitting without saying anything was the one thing that would successfully drive Remus to push for more conversation — fuck, of course he knew that, he knew exactly what he was doing, and Remus made it far too easy.

“Do you two still play in that soccer league together?” Remus conceded the struggle. He was trapped in a booth, what else was he doing to do?

“Forever. We will play until we are old and decrepit,” Sirius answered nostalgically, “We owe our entire friendship to that league. I can’t think of anything else that could have brought a British transplant and a Californian accountant together for the bromance of the century.”

“That’s true,” Remus commented, “although they may kick you out before then? For safety reasons, and all.”

Sirius tilted his head down and laughed softly again as he messed with the stir stick in his old fashioned. A couple of seconds passed before he lifted his eyes and looked up at Remus through his lashes, a soft, innocent smile on his face, and that was all it took to send Remus careening back to age 19 again. He took a deep exhale and leaned back into the cushion of the booth, forcing himself to relax a little and stop letting his mind run asunder. He could do that later.

“I was really excited when Minerva announced she wanted to bring you back to New York,” Sirius said finally.

“Why’s that?” Remus asked with genuine curiosity and lifted Mary’s glass to his lips.

Sirius was still. “I never thought we’d go seven years without speaking a single word to each other.”

“Mmm,” Remus said as he swallowed, “That’s typically what happens when people break up, Sirius.”

Sirius nodded vaguely. “I guess so,” he admitted more thoughtfully than anything else, “but that’s not what I wanted.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Remus snorted and then regretted it immediately, annoyed with himself for giving too much away. Sirius’ brow furrowed into an expression of confusion, and Remus decided that the best solution was to change the subject entirely instead of launching into the well-curated set of speeches he’d recited so many times before. “Your composing seems to have really taken off,” he offered after a beat.

“I suppose,” Sirius replied slowly, probably deciding that it would be merciful to allow Remus to transition them to this far less personal topic of conversation. Remus thought he detected a hint of disappointment in his voice and was grateful that he didn’t try to push it any further. “It keeps me busy at least.”

Remus laughed lightly. “Well, it’s going to make you pretty famous if you don’t watch out.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sirius threw back, mouth curling up at the side.

“Oh please,” Remus rolled his eyes away from Sirius and didn’t fight the hint of a smile that reformed on his face, “I’m famous for a pianist. You’re becoming _famous_ famous. No additional descriptor necessary.”

“What are we talking about?” Remus was pulled out of the banter by Mary’s return, who was sliding into the empty chair across the table from them now.

“Sirius’ future as a mainstream music sensation,” Remus answered.

“Oh, of course,” Mary said, pausing as she tried to locate her hijacked glass. Remus quickly slid her a clean one from the center of the table before she mistakenly grabbed his old glass of flat beer. “He’s going to single handedly repopularize classical music. I think I can hear Bach and Ravel screeching gleefully from their graves,” she finished as Remus poured.

“Wow. Morbid,” Sirius deadpanned, spinning the ice around in his drink in a familiar way that reminded Remus of James.

“Just please give me a badass clarinet cameo at some point, yeah?” Mary pined with her hands pressed together in prayer.

“Of course, Mary,” Sirius quipped, shaking his head lazily as if that was a pointless question, and realistically, the whiskey, “You know I’d never forget about the little people along the way. And by ‘little’, I’m going by the definition ‘small in size’. And, seriously, you’re tiny. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Remus choked. “Oh my god, what a terrible joke,” he exclaimed through a laugh he couldn’t seem to control, “I can see that hasn’t improved over the years.”

“Never,” Sirius beamed at him proudly, and Remus had to avert his gaze for a moment.

“Sirius!” Benjy suddenly yelled across the table. Sirius raised his eyebrows and nodded at the other man in acknowledgment. “What note?” He then launched into a piercingly high falsetto that echoed around the entire bar.

“STOP!” Sirius pleaded through a fit of laughter, “Fuck, stop, Benjy, it’s bloody A flat!”

“Ah, the timeless ‘Sirius has perfect pitch’ game,” Mary explained, and Sirius caught his eye knowingly before Remus quickly turned back to Mary and felt a blush spread across his face. “I swear, it takes up half of the time we spend together, and it’s morphed into some sort of ‘who can make the most obnoxious sound in public without getting thrown out’ type of deal.”

“Oh dear,” Remus said a little distantly.

“You’d be absolutely shocked by the nasty reactions we get,” Sirius offered with faux innocence, “Apparently people don’t appreciate dolphin sounds in a movie theater!”

Marlene chimed in from down the table where she’d been eavesdropping, “Like yeah, yeah, we get it, he’s a human tuner. It’s not _that_ rare. Most of us can get pretty close most of the time—” 

“Marlene!” Sirius cut her off and launched into what Remus could only describe as an impression of an ambulance siren.

“Easy, Black. Glissando G to D sharp,” she said confidently and then popped an olive into her mouth.

“Wrong,” Sirius chided, sounding incredibly put-upon, “Are you even a musician?” When Marlene’s face started to fall with doubt, he tacked on, “That’s G to _E flat_.”

“Oh, boooooooooo! Screw you, smartass,” Marlene hissed with feeling as she threw a fry across the table and nailed him in the face. Sirius reacted with a bright, plastic smile before reaching over to pick the fry up from where it had landed next to Remus’ beer. He popped it into his mouth with a vapid expression, making her bark a laugh and threaten to throw another one.

“Well, you did deserve that,” Remus voiced to his right.

Sirius turned to look at him, body still angled in that direction. “Gotta keep them in line somehow, mate,” he mused, striking a pointer finger twice against the table in emphasis, “Their heads will get too big otherwise.” 

“I’m sure Minerva appreciates that,” Remus said, and he briefly considered moving his coat out of the way to scoot further into the booth. He also felt the conflicting desire to drink more and to stop drinking altogether. He decided on the latter and pushed his glass to the far side of the table so that it was out of reach.

Sirius leaned back. “Hit your limit?” he asked lightly.

“Yeah, I’d like to retain my dignity around new colleagues I think,” Remus responded just as Gideon started to make donkey sounds in the background, sending him into another fit of laughter that Sirius mirrored a beat later. When he finally started to catch his breath, his face felt warm, his whole body felt warm. The night was going so much better than he could have hoped, and he experienced another surge of conflicting feelings when Sirius recovered from his doubled-over position looking at him with tears of laughter in his eyes.

Remus forced himself to turn away from Sirius’ smile. “Sorry, can I get out?” he asked after a shaky exhale, gesturing at Sirius.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Sirius managed and stood up. Remus slid out, thanking him before heading to the back of the bar where the restroom presumably would be. 

He made his way in and locked the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment to stabilize himself. When Remus thought about how things would go when he inevitably reconnected with Sirius in New York, he had braced himself for the tension between them. However, he had not braced himself for how easily their rapport would fall right back into place, almost as if no time had passed, except for the brick wall of unsaid words between them now.

Remus took a breath and moved over to the sink, turning the faucet on and splashing water onto his face. The cool water worked as he’d hoped, and after a minute, he felt like he could head back out to socialize for a little while longer. If Remus had it his way, he’d just sneak out now, but that wouldn’t look too great and he wanted to leave a positive impression on the musicians.

Remus returned to the party and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Sirius had relocated back to the other side of the table. Probably on purpose, Remus thought — he’d always been able to read Remus like a book, and for that he was thankful, albeit slightly unsettled. 

It looked as if Sirius and Benjy had switched seats, and Remus took the chair next to Mary to sit across from the flutist. But the uneasiness of the moment completely evaporated when Benjy made a joke about a lawyer, an elephant, and an oboe — which while stupid as hell on its face, sent Remus into hysterics again based on the delivery — and Remus settled into the easiest conversation he’d had all night, probably aided by the fact that Sirius was more than 10 feet away from him again. 

The rest of the night flew by quickly, and Remus eventually headed home buzzing with a sense of camaraderie that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 played by Valentina Lisitsa (go to around 5:40 to see her fingers move so fast that they look like flobberworms):
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdH1hSWGFGU


	5. Chapter 5

Remus spent his next two days off descending into the dismal world of apartment hunting in New York City. After living frugally with a solid paycheck for the last seven years, Remus had a large stash of money saved, but he wasn’t too keen on the idea of watching it all go down the drain for an unreasonably priced room in a shitty apartment. But on the bright side, he had some breathing room. Even if he had to stay in Cleveland for a couple of months while his living situation got sorted, at least he would be spending some quality time with his parents. Plus, they probably needed the help, and after so long away, Remus was willing to sacrifice a couple of months for them if he needed to.

For now, in regards to the apartment search, he decided to only reach out to the listings that were either (a) a studio, or (b) a two bedroom with one roommate who was a student or professional. Studio was preferable, of course, but he was looking in Manhattan, so he wasn’t too optimistic. The three spaces he had visited on his days off were severely underwhelming, and Remus wondered if he needed to adjust his expectations. Or perhaps devise a new strategy altogether. Maybe he would bring it up to James at some point if things didn’t start looking up— word of mouth typically was the way to find the hidden gems — and James had seemed genuinely interested in helping.

Although he never would have been the one to initiate it, it had been nice officially breaking the ice with Sirius the other night. Getting that out of the way freed up some mental energy, and walking to the third rehearsal this morning held none of tension that the two prior had. The other man wasn’t even a thought in Remus’ mind as he entered the building and walked his way to the stage, for he was solely focused on something else — which was mastering the third movement, far and away the most technically challenging portion of the concerto, and achieving cohesion with the rest of the symphony.

He sat down at the piano. There were 35 minutes before Minerva would commence the rehearsal so the room was mostly empty, and Remus launched right into his warmup. After twenty minutes of getting his hands limbered, he stood up to grab a water bottle; today’s practice was going to be a long and arduous one, he could feel it.

When he walked back to the piano, he noticed that Sirius was on the other side of the stage talking to Caradoc, but Marlene was in her usual seat at the string section. Remus also noticed that she was quieter than usual and seemed to be putting remarkable focus into rosining her bow.

“Hey Marlene,” Remus offered as he sat back down on the piano bench and twisted the cap off of his water bottle, eyeing her closely.

“Oh, hey Remus.” She looked up and smiled, but he could tell that it was forced.

“How were your days off?” he asked.

“They were good,” she answered with another tight smile.

Remus just looked at her steadily for a moment. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing down before returning her eyes to Remus, “How about you?”

“Frustrating,” Remus admitted, thinking that a little commiseration may help Marlene if she was, as he sensed, feeling down. “Just trying to sort out my next steps in life while fitting in eight hours of piano every day.”

“Funny how that never stops, huh?” she mused.

“Hilarious,” Remus answered dryly, causing Marlene to finally break into a real smile, and Remus filed that away as a small win. “And it probably won’t ever end given the incredibly easy career path I’ve chosen,” he finished, pulling a face.

Marlene snorted. “Well and you’ve been cursed with giant hands, so no other career would have you anyway,” she said nonchalantly.

“What?” Remus clarified.

“‘Check out those giant hands,’ they’d all say, ‘incapable of using a regular keyboard, look at all these pathetic typos! What does he have, _hooves_ for hands? Get rid of him!’ Although,” Marlene brightened up with a new thought and Remus remained speechless at the ridiculousness of it all, “you could do mixed martial arts. You’re like, what? 6’1 and 165 pounds?”

Remus blinked. “Around that, yeah…”

Marlene continued, “Right, I thought so. Welterweight. Unless you want a sick weight cut to fight as a lightweight, which I don’t recommend. Are you violent, Remus?”

“What are you even saying right now?” Remus asked after a beat.

“Does he look violent, Marlene?” Sirius cut in as he made his way to his chair. She shrugged in response.

“Greatest UFC heavyweight of all time is from Cleveland. You never know. Could be something in the water, eh, Remus?”

“Don’t encourage this,” Sirius piped up again, voice a little muffled as he bent forward to work on unpacking his violin, “Pointless to have a face like his used as a punching bag.”

“True,” Marlene conceded before lifting her finger, “and cauliflower ear is not a good look.” Sirius nodded vehemently, as if this were an analysis they talked through regularly.

“Thank you?” Remus questioned, unable to think of any other response.

“Huh?” Marlene looked at him like he was an alien.

“Nevermind,” Remus shook his head and flipped through his sheet music to the third movement for something to do.

A few seconds later, Remus heard Marlene speak up again. “Sirius, will you hate me if I can’t make it tonight?”

Sirius responded quickly, “Wait, what? What happened? You’ve been talking about tonight non-stop.”

“Just…” Marlene’s voice softened, and she paused and waved her hands nonsensically, “John stuff.”

“Ah, again?” he asked quietly, and Remus saw him put a hand on her shoulder out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t respond, but she nodded tightly, in a way he interpreted that she’d prefer not to expound on the topic at the moment. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I thought it was better. Of course I don’t mind if you’re not there, we’ll have more performances. It’s no problem.”

“Thanks,” she grumbled, and Remus grimaced. Everyone has something going on, didn’t they? Even the ones who seemed to have it all together. “Oh! Why don’t I give Remus my ticket?”

“Hmm?” Remus turned his body back to them, sensing that the private moment she presumably needed was over.

“Do you want my ticket for Sirius’ show tonight?” she asked, “It’s at a small venue in Soho.”

Remus eyes flickered quickly to Sirius, who gave him a small shrug, and then back to Marlene who was waiting expectantly.

“Mary and Gideon are going,” she tacked on with one clap as if that sealed the deal, “You can tag along with them. It starts at 9pm and it’s sold out.”

Remus’ eyes flicked back over to Sirius, who appeared to be more focused on tuning his violin. “Okay,” Remus agreed slowly, “Sure, thanks, Marlene.”

Marlene was about to respond, but was cut off by the familiar sound of Minerva’s voice reverberating throughout the auditorium.

“Third movement today, everybody. Expect for this to be a grueling day. It’s the reason why Rach 3 has its formidable reputation, particularly for our soloist,” she said, nodding her head at Remus, “But if we put the time in today, our last rehearsal before dress is going to fly by. Today is the metaphorical summit of the mountain. All downhill from here.”

The practice started somewhat normally, a couple of unnoticeable mistakes by Remus as he worked to integrate his timing with the strings, which had a more complex part in this movement. Nothing unusual for a solo pianist. However, instead of coalescing quickly like he had expected, it took the opposite turn and Remus felt that the longer he played, the more disconnected he felt from both the piano and the entire symphony. Remus always knew when he was playing at his best — his hands took on a mind of their own and he fell into a state of flow. Compared to their other rehearsals, he couldn’t recall a time when he had had to think more about what his hands were doing.

By their second run-through of the third movement, Remus seriously wondered if he had memorized the wrong piece a year ago. His hands felt like they were constantly running a thirty-second note behind, the overlapping voices he drew out at the piano’s upper register overpowering the delicate strings at some points and getting lost in the bright timbre of the brass at others. A light sheen of sweat glistened at his brow just 45 minutes into the day as he fought with total concentration to adjust the weighting of his hand to dialogue with the other instruments, but without losing the near-impossible speed and agility that made the third movement what it was.

His own concern about his strained performance was solidified when he chanced a glance over at Sirius, and he noticed the violinist had his eyes trained on him in a look that he interpreted as subtle concern. Remus sighed defeatedly — it was one thing for Remus to notice his own mistakes, but now Sirius was too — and Remus figured that the rest of the orchestra was probably noticing as well.

Minerva called an early 15 minute break, the earliest they had ever had, only an hour into the day. He used the first ten minutes to quickly stretch his wrists and go back to his drills — he wasn’t sure if that would help him at this point, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. When he finished, he stood up from the piano and headed to the back of the stage to grab a water bottle.

Mary approached him as he leaned his body against the wall and sipped the water. “You should eat something,” she said.

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“Don’t care,” she declared before shoving a bag of almonds into his hands, “It’s my emergency stash. They are boring, but brain food. Now eat.”

“Alright,” he surrendered, thinking that it would be easier than turning her down when she seemed so determined. He opened the ziploc bag and very slowly lifted a raw almond to his mouth. 

Mary nodded vehemently and pushed his elbow up to speed things along. Remus laughed as he popped the almond into his mouth and Mary chuckled back. Remus was struck with a feeling of warmth when he finally realized why he had been so drawn to her from the moment they had met. She was so like his best friend from Cleveland that his heart tightened with affection. Her eyes lit up a moment later and she asked, “Marlene told me you’re coming with us tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” Remus replied dismally, “I guess I am.”

“Don’t sound too enthused,” Mary observed.

“Sorry, my mind is a fucking mess right now,” Remus explained a little distantly and ran a hand through his hair. “And I have a long day ahead.”

Mary nodded in understanding. “Sounds like doing something to get your mind off things tonight is the best thing for you then.”

“I’m not so sure,” Remus shrugged and popped another almond into his mouth.

“No, you’re coming,” Mary said, putting both hands squarely on his shoulders, which Remus thought looked uncomfortable for her given their height differential. It was a comforting gesture all the same and a smile poked at his lips. “Don’t even entertain the idea of canceling; it’s going to be good for you,” she said softly, but with finality.

Remus lifted another almond to his lips, navigating around Mary’s arms. “I feel like you’re my mother,” he chided as he chewed, “Except she’s not nearly as pushy as you are.”

Mary tilted her chin and smiled at him with amusement, not denying the accusation. Their conversation was interrupted, however, by Minerva’s re-entrance onto the stage, the unmistakable clink of her heels against the wooden floor.

“Remus,” Mary said before he had a chance to start walking back to the piano, and while she still held him hostage. Her voice was more serious now, “Don’t worry. You’re going to be great.”

Remus didn’t respond, but nodded his head tightly and met her eyes, feeling a little bit better that she understood the frustration he was experiencing. That seemed to satisfy her, and she let go of him and made her way back over to the woodwinds. When Remus walked to the piano, he furrowed his brow in brief confusion when he noticed that something about his setup was different. There was a paper coffee cup with a familiar logo sitting on the left side of the bench, steaming and full of his absolute favorite coffee in the world.

He looked over at Sirius — it had to be Sirius, right? He was the only person in the room who knew about this particular comfort of his. But the other man didn’t meet his eye, and the side of his face was obscured by a curtain of jet black hair as he leaned over to rosin his bow. The corner of Remus’ mouth turned up when he reached for the coffee; it was a small pleasure amidst a storm, he felt, and wonderfully appreciated.

He and Minerva were in silent conversation almost the entire remainder of the day, and he watched meticulously for her timing cues and signals about phrasing and volume. Some elements were clicking into place, but he still had a lot of work to do. The helpful part about coming with the piece memorized was that he knew exactly which notes he needed to strike and in what rhythm — but the challenge was that he had to release what he knew, to some extent, in order to bring Minerva’s vision to life in the context of the full ensemble. For the piano soloist, the second half of the third movement was an all-out frenzy of acrobatic chords and cadences of feather-light touch executed with incredible speed, and when Minerva eventually called rehearsal after the 6th run about five hours later, Remus’ body and mind felt like he had just run a full marathon. 

“Fuck me,” Remus groaned in a whisper after finishing his last notation on the score. He dropped his palms down against the bench to stretch his wrists and slumped over, doing the same for his tight upper back and shoulders. He would need to spend the rest of the day here practicing with the notes he took, until he had to meet with Mary and Gideon at least, and probably tomorrow too — then he would, God willing, feel in shape for a solid final rehearsal.

*****

Remus had planned to meet up with Mary and Gideon at the venue at 8:30pm, which would allow them time for a drink before Sirius’ show started. Given the tough rehearsal day plus intense post-rehearsal practice, Remus was not in the mood to be out — wasn’t in the mood for anything but laying in bed like a rock, really. Had Marlene offered him the ticket during the break at rehearsal, as opposed to before the day had started, he would have turned it down flat out. 

Frustration was not an emotion Remus navigated well or often, particularly in regards to his piano performance. Piano was always the one thing he could rely on to make sense in his life, so when he was struggling with a piece, it usually had an outsize impact on him. But he had agreed to go — and the idea of a ticket going to waste that Marlene could have offered to someone else haunted him on principle — so he was going to go.

Gideon and Mary were already at the venue when he arrived. They waved him over to the bar, and he ordered some cocktail that Gideon recommended, but wished he had just gotten a beer. The venue was classy, set up like a lounge but with the far more casual feel of a bar, and the space was intimate. He saw a small, slightly raised stage at the back of the room and additional seating up in front — it could probably seat around 50 people or so at most, Remus estimated. Smaller audiences could be more involved in the performance, making it more like a conversation with the musicians, and he couldn’t help but note that this venue seemed like the perfect setup for Sirius, whose light shone even brighter in front of a crowd and who had a natural way of engaging with people.

“Dudeman, you look like shit!” Gideon commented gracefully as they nabbed a table near the stage. Remus withheld a response and felt his jaw slack as he looked at Gideon in disbelief, almost impressed by his bluntness.

“Gid, shut the hell up!” Mary socked his arm and laughed for a couple seconds before turning to Remus with a soft expression. “But you do look tired, my friend.”

“Ah, yeah, just rehearsal today,” Remus explained, more so to Gideon, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “And you’re right. I look like shit because I felt like shit. There’s only one full rehearsal left before dress and I feel like the walls are closing in on me,” he explained. There was no need to sugarcoat it.

Gideon brought his glass back down and snorted. “You’re crazy, you know,” he supplied mercifully, “Look, I know I’m always hardest on myself too, but Remus, you sound phenomenal.”

“I sounded _sufficient_ ,” Remus corrected him, but not before registering the kindness of his comment, “That’s not good enough though. This performance is such a huge deal to me, and I feel so off. I can’t explain it.”

“But I’m sure that happens, right? That’s what these rehearsals are for. To iron out the kinks,” Mary tried.

“No,” Remus cut in abruptly, and then softened his tone, “This isn’t a ‘kink’, it’s more than that. But I really am fine, just tired,” he lied as he took a drink, “I don’t want to sabotage the night by moping or anything. I’ll spend tomorrow at the piano and figure it out.” He smiled — tightly, but it was still a smile — in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

Mary smiled back and hummed. “Well, I think tonight will be good for you, Remus,” she proffered and Gideon nodded, “Sirius is performing with two others from the Philharmonic, Frank and Alice. You’ll like them a lot. They are in their forties, met when they started with the Philharmonic like, what Gid? Ten years ago or so?”

“That sounds right,” Gideon offered back.

“And then they got married!” Mary continued, “They are adorable, and they have a four year old son. Super fun family, but busy, obviously, so we don’t see them outside of rehearsals very often.”

Remus tried his third drink of the cocktail and decided it was time to abandon that ship — maybe he would have time to grab a beer before the show started. “That’s sweet,” Remus said, pushing the cocktail off to the side, “What instruments do they play?”

“Alice is a violinist and Frank plays bass, but sometimes he’ll bring a keyboard too. The three of them have a great dynamic. Sirius and Alice kind of play dueling violins while Frank injects these deep undertones— perfect balance to the brightness of the violins. He’ll play pizzicato and drum on the shell of the bass too for more percussive sounds and rhythms, makes the performances really fun.”

“Sounds like it,” Remus commented, intrigued, “How about the music they play? Is it improvised?”

“Whatever Sirius comes up with, usually his compositions. Alice and Frank have this inherent ability to understand what he’s going for,” Mary explained, “Sometimes they do improv, but tonight is a Sirius original.”

Remus laughed softly, knowing exactly what Mary was describing. There were many nights when Sirius would wake Remus up, full of excitement, to explain a musical epiphany that he had just had. Although he had found it adorable, Remus was never able to grasp what exactly Sirius was trying to say until he heard it played on an instrument, and he usually tried to get Sirius to go back to sleep so that he could sleep too. Remus was almost always unsuccessful, however, and would lie semi-awake in bed while the soft sounds of the keyboard or violin — that Sirius would equip with a practice muter — flowed in through the living room, and then he’d understand what Sirius meant before eventually drifting back to sleep.

“I can’t wait,” Remus commented, because it felt like the right thing to say, “Sounds like I’m lucky that Marlene offered me her ticket.”

“You are,” Gideon concurred, “Marlene must really be going through something if she forfeited it. She loves these things.”

“Really?” Remus asked with a frown, “Do you know what’s going on with her? Is she okay?”

“Boyfriend troubles,” Mary answered quickly, probably so that Gideon wouldn’t say anything inflammatory. “It’s nothing new. John’s been pressuring her to get married — they’ve been together for five years so it makes sense, but she just can’t bring herself to want it. Like, she _wants_ to want to marry him, but it doesn’t feel right.”

Remus nodded. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it’s been tearing her up, knowing that she probably has to break a really great guy’s heart. But it’s just not the life she wants, you know?” Mary explained.

“Ah, yes. I do know how that is,” Remus admitted, leaving out the fact that in his case, he has been on the receiving end of it. “I hope it goes smoothly at least.”

“We’ll see.” Mary shrugged and added, “I’m glad it ain’t me.”

“Fucking cheers to that,” Gideon said with enthusiasm as he lifted his glass. Mary clinked it with equal fervor, and Remus lifted his to fit in.

They kept chatting for a while about everything unrelated to music, and around 8:50, Sirius showed up from the back room with a man and woman, presumably Alice and Frank, to begin setting up. The three of them smiled when they spotted the table, and they made their way over to introduce Remus to Alice and Frank.

Remus’ first impression of the couple was that they were a little wacky, as musicians often were, and extremely kind. Alice was small, probably only just over five feet, with straight, pearlesque blonde hair hitting her shoulders, and Frank was large, at least three inches taller than Remus and probably 50 pounds heavier, with dark brown hair. The stark contrast of the couple’s appearance only added to their appeal, and Remus found himself hoping to get to know them better over the next few weeks. Well, once the performances were over.

A couple minutes after the trio stopped by the table, they took the stage to begin their set. As soon as the music started, Remus immediately understood why the other musicians had talked so highly about their chemistry.

Frank was the first instrument to come in, and he was using both hands to drum against the back and side of his standup bass, in what Remus eventually calculated were repeating measures of a ⅞ beat, with a syncopated measure of ¾ peppered in. Alice came in next, laying harmonies over the beat in an entirely different meter that Remus had almost been able to deduce over the drumline, before Sirius came in and beautifully disoriented him again. The grandiose, sweeping melody almost had a baroch style that felt out of place nested in the hectic texture Frank and Alice had created. Sirius and Alice walked around each other on the stage, trading off melody and harmony in complete fluidity, the technical complexity of which was totally blowing Remus’ mind.

By the third piece in the set, Remus was watching the stage with a huge, delighted smile on his face. This piece was in the style of “phase music”, a compositional form championed by Steve Reich, who had been one of Sirius’ idols when he’d started trying his hand at composing in their second year at Julliard. Each instrument played the very same score, but they came in at different points in the first measure, which built up to several minutes of complete dissonance — and Remus was awestruck that they were able to hear each other and keep in sync, before the instruments settled slowly into harmony again. This earned a huge applause in the middle of the piece from the audience, and Remus figured they must all be in the music community or were fans of Sirius, given this one was such an acquired taste.

An hour passed by quickly for Remus, as he was entranced by the music, unsurprising, really, as he had always been in awe of Sirius’ talent, and he admitted to Mary that she had been right. He even felt a little better about his own performance after effectively clearing his mind — it didn’t feel so insurmountable anymore. It was just another challenge that he would rise to.

The set ended and the room erupted into loud applause, Remus included. His table was particularly passionate and he also heard loud whooping sounds come from the back of the room that carried on for probably 45 seconds too long. When the room finally quieted down and the musicians began to pack their things up on stage, Mary and Gideon started to ask Remus questions about life in the Midwest, seemingly intrigued by the stark differences it held from the big cities they had grown up in.

Just as Remus began to expound on growing up in Cleveland, and in particular, his favorite activities on Lake Erie during the summer, he felt a set of large, strong hands grab his shoulders along with an odd sound resembling “AHHH, BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA”. Remus stopped mid-sentence as an embarrassingly high yelp escaped from his lips, a yelp that was met with a familiar good-natured laugh from the hands’ owner.

“Oh Remus, fancy seeing you here part two!” James exclaimed.

“James — _christ_ — hi,” Remus said through a deep exhale as his body calmed down.

“So easily startled,” James laughed as he pulled two extra chairs over to the table and Gideon and Mary stood up to quickly greet him. “I don’t know why, obviously I would be here,” James said to Remus after he had settled into his seat, and in a tone that distinctly suggested Remus had gone around the twist.

“Okay, you snuck up on me from behind this time,” Remus exclaimed, tossing his shoulders back, “It’s like your favorite thing to do is startle me now, why wouldn’t I be startled? By a man putting his giant hands on me and making mountain troll sounds in my ear?” James cackled before Remus smiled and eventually gestured around the table. “You all know each other, then?” he asked at large.

“Of course,” Gideon answered nonchalantly, “James is like an honorary member of the Philharmonic—“

“Which is saying a lot considering he is tone deaf and doesn’t know the difference between a violin and a viola,” Mary cut in.

“Not true!” James exclaimed indignantly. “The violin is what Sirius plays and it goes right here on his neck,” James proclaimed as he gestured under his chin in an impressive likeness to Vanna White, raising his eyebrows at Remus as if he should be impressed.

“Very good!” Mary announced sweetly, reminiscent of Remus’ kindergarten teacher.

“Yes, thank you, _Mary_.” He sent Remus a look of faux-disdain and Remus tossed back a look of confusion in response. “Fun performance, huh? We got here a bit late so we camped out at the back for most of the time, not the best view, but still fantastic.”

“We?” Remus clarified, feeling a tinge of excitement that perhaps Lily was here as well.

“Hey!” James called loudly to someone at the bar. “Dannyboy! Over here.”

Remus turned to see a young guy, probably barely 21, carrying two cocktails over to the table. He was wearing a suit and tie, similar to James but obviously not as expensive, and Remus assumed that he came from the same accounting firm. However, unlike James, his expression looked like one of fatigue and obligation, if Remus had to guess.

“Hey everyone, this is my intern, Danny. Danny this is Mary, Gideon, and Remus,” James said jovially. Danny gave a sad wave to everyone at the table before handing James one of the drinks and plopping down into the neighboring chair.

“Your intern?” Remus repeated, feeling immense pity for the poor kid sitting across from him as Gideon made some sort of side comment under his breath about fresh meat. “Is this part of the job?”

“Of course not!” James responded as if the question were silly. “I told him about the performance tonight, and he was dying to come with me, so of course I acquiesced.” However, from the expression on Danny’s face, Remus doubted James’ every word and just assumed that the truth was the opposite of whatever was coming out of his mouth. “Work hard, play hard, right Dannyboy?” 

“Absolutely, sir. I’m not tired at all,” he said, the sarcasm going straight over James’ head.

“See?” James said with absolute pleasure. “That’s New York City for ya. The city that never sleeps.” His head swiveled to the left when something caught his eye, and another smile broke out onto his face. “There he is! Man of the hour.”

Remus turned swiftly to see Sirius approaching the table carrying his violin case. He pulled one of the chairs in front of the stage over to the table, and it was getting crowded now, so Remus scooted closer to James to give Sirius enough room to squeeze in. Sirius greeted his friends again and slid in next to Remus, running a hand through his hair to push it over to one side, and leaned his forearms down heavily against the table.

“Danny! Get this hardworking gentleman a drink,” James demanded, but in a cheerful tone that Remus imagined probably made it all the worse for the intern, “Whiskey on the rocks, please.” He handed Danny a twenty dollar bill as Remus swore that he heard him mutter “it’s just Dan” under his breath, before he accepted his fate and headed to the bar.

The table raved about Sirius’ show for a few minutes, during which Gideon referred to the second song in the set written in 5/4 time that had the feel of a square dance tune, as “an absolute fucking bop, sounded like Take Five’s midwest cousin”, before he asked, “Did Frank and Alice already leave?”

“Yes, right after we finished packing up,” Sirius offered through a languid stretch and a yawn, “Had to relieve the babysitter.” It seemed like Sirius was almost as exhausted by now as Remus was.

“Bummer, I wanted to talk about how the fantasy league went down,” Gideon remarked. “Alice screwed me over with a couple of those trades. I was an idiot.”

“It’s Justin Verlander’s world and we’re just living in it, mate,” Sirius remarked solemnly and everyone around the table nodded except for Remus, who wondered what world he was living in, not for the first time since returning to New York City.

As the rest of the table launched into a conversation about baseball, Remus sat back and listened idly, eventually getting up to order that beer he’d been pining for. When he sat back down, Sirius turned to him, presumably taking a break from baseball talk for the time being.

“Thanks for coming, Rem,” Sirius said as Remus took the first drink of his beer and turned in his direction too, “I know Marlene kind of pushed it on you last minute.”

“Oh she did… but no, I’m glad I came.” Remus laughed quietly before looking back up at Sirius and regarding him for a few moments. “Thanks for the coffee today,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Sirius supplied, doing a remarkable job of looking innocent.

Remus drummed his fingers along the table. “Yeah, well... thanks anyway,” he replied, watching as the innocent look on the other man’s face morphed into a small smile. “You were amazing by the way.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asked as the left corner of his mouth drew up. His face was turned downward as he stirred his drink, but his gaze was trained up at Remus.

“Of course,” Remus huffed halfway through a laugh, finding it ridiculous that this sentiment wasn’t obvious to the other man.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Sirius said. Then he looked down at his glass again, slowly swiveling it in his hand as if he were deciding whether or not to say anything more. But then he spoke again, “I’ve never really known if you’ve followed what I’ve done since you left, so it’s nice to have you come see this.”

Remus shifted in his seat. “No, I haven’t really followed much,” he lied.

Sirius nodded his head, as if he had expected that answer. He swirled the glass again once and lifted it quickly to his lips. “Well I learned a lot from you, so I feel like you should get some of the credit,” he added after a moment.

Remus experienced that peculiar feeling again, the one that arose inside of his body when Sirius alluded to the past, and felt like he was sitting in a car that made a turn way too quickly. The one that drug up with it memories that he had worked very hard to suppress over the years for the sake of his own sanity. He averted his eyes away from the other man and took another long swig of his beer, racking his brain for something to change the subject to. 

“What do you think of James’ intern?” Sirius beat him to it, as if he knew Remus might bolt without a reprieve. Remus laughed, a little too hard, probably from the relief combined with the question he’d been asked.

“Oh, it’s given James far too much power. And I think his name is _Dan_ ,” Remus observed and ended it in a pointed whisper, and Sirius threw his head back in silent laughter.

“Poor sod,” he said eventually, “James will probably scare him away from accounting forever.”

“Right, I’m almost certain he is having a mental crisis right now,” Remus mumbled, “can see it in his eyes.”

“Dan,” Sirius suddenly interrupted the baseball conversation still dominating the table. The intern looked up with a little more life in his eyes, probably at being referred to by the correct name, “Your early twenties are going to suck. Seriously, they are the bloody worst. But then when you near 30, it’ll all start to come together. So when this prat over here is making your life miserable, just power through.”

“Miserable?” James chimed back in, his voice confused, “No no no, he’s having the time of his life.”

Sirius laughed again, and mouthed “power through” at Dan once again, receiving a tight nod in response, and Remus had to hide his face.

“Hey you’re still up for dinner this weekend?” James turned his attention to Remus.

Remus recovered in record time. “Absolutely,” he confirmed, “On Saturday right?”

“Saturday, yes,” James said with a nod, “And you don’t mind coming over to ours?”

“No, that’s perfect. You have to ride into the city every weekday, I can handle one night of commuting over to Hoboken,” Remus replied. “Plus I want to see your house,” he added, earning a whoop from James.

“Just stop sneaking up on me, please,” Remus tacked on, leaning more comfortably in his chair so he could properly look down his nose at him.

“What’s this?” Sirius perked up to ask as James communicated a resolute “No deal.”

Remus swiveled his head toward Sirius now. “James has made a habit of scaring the shit out of me whenever he sees me,” he explained.

“Fucking brilliant,” Sirius whispered, apparently loud enough for James to hear, evident from the beaming smile on his face.

“No, not you too,” Remus groaned.

Sirius snorted and patted Remus gently on the back. “I know, Remus. I’m keen to get back into your good graces, and obviously causing you to scream — which, C sharp by the way — isn’t the way to go. However, I can do nothing to stop James, and I’m certainly not going to discourage it, mind,” Sirius said, settling in to reflect Remus’ relaxed posture now, but at the rate his head was spinning he didn’t really notice that detail, “him being my best mate at all.”

Remus let out a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh and buried his face in his hand. It was suddenly clear, with the three of them together again, that the dynamic between them hadn’t been lost, even after seven years. And Remus thought that it was about time he let himself enjoy it.


	6. Chapter 6

Remus decided to ease the frustration of his apartment search by giving James the go-ahead to tap into his expansive network of New Yorkers for support. When James returned his text to ask if he could mention it to Sirius eventually, Remus agreed, because the more people who knew and could keep an eye out for him, he assumed, the better. After having close to zero results from his hours of online searching and apartment viewings, the idea of Sirius knowing about his plans didn’t feel like a big deal if it meant he’d have more help. When James replied with a text saying “Consider it done, Rem”, he was hopeful that at least one of the stressors in his life would be gone soon — and a big one at that.

With the burden of apartment-hunting delegated to somebody far more capable, Remus felt his focus shift to the most pressing issue: his performance. The night before in Soho had been nice, and he was even willing to admit that it had been a good idea to attend, at least in terms of distracting himself for a bit. Sirius’ music was beautiful, of course, but more importantly, it was inspiring — a jolt of exactly what Remus needed to rejuvenate.

He arrived to the auditorium early the next morning, at around 8am, but not before his usual pit stop. The cafe staff was reaching a certain level of comfort with him by this point, to where they’d started writing terrible music puns on his cup that always featured his name in some way (today’s was “sing for me, my angel of remus(ic)”), and he absolutely loved it. After catching up for a minute with Amanda, she informed him that by the sound of his woes he may benefit from a malachite healing crystal — supposedly a stone of transformation that helps to balance the mind and relieve scattered and unfocused thoughts. He had laughed at first, thinking it ridiculous that a stone could hold any power at all, but by the time he made it to the piano, he wondered if he should give it a shot if today didn’t go well.

Remus spent the first two hours warming up, then repeating the third movement over, and over, and over again, hearing the invisible symphony performing with him in his head and using his meticulous notes to make the subtle adjustments he needed to. He knew it was improving incrementally, even if he still wasn’t completely feeling the music in his bones.

Instead of letting himself get frustrated by that, he went back to the first two movements, playing them both through a couple of times effortlessly and with the right nuances in place for the orchestra. With the first two, he felt his hands work on their own, and his mind was free to focus on expressing the feeling that the piece deserved. It felt fluid and easy now, which made his current inability to nail down the finale at this point — the most climactic part of the piece — all the more maddening.

His progress on the third movement seemed to stall again a few hours in, but at least he was moving two steps forward, one step back now instead of the other way around. Remus let out a heavy sigh, pressing his hands onto the keys in a jumbled cacophony of sound, a silly but gratifying gesture he picked up in high school. When the notes had faded away to silence, he rested his elbows onto the keys next, letting his head fall into his hands as he massaged at his temples. He could technically play the movement all the way through just fine, but he felt so lost and disconnected, and he couldn’t pinpoint what was causing it.

With his head supported in his hands and the silence around him, Remus let his mind wander back to the life he had left in France. The move to Paris had brought him a new level of joy and inspiration that his younger self wouldn’t have thought possible at the time. It was freeing to be there, an ocean away from the ghosts back home, realizing that he could not only function on his own, but he could flourish. Paris had taught him a lot about himself: he could live alone and be alright with being lonely, he was capable of conquering performance nerves without using anybody else as a crutch, he could travel on his own for performances and receive standing ovations in country after country. Oh, and after his very first nightclub experience — in which he stayed out until 5am — he realized that his ability to attract other men wasn’t just limited to the one instance that ended badly for him. And for that alone, he would always love Paris. It pushed him to grow up and learn his worth.

But Remus felt now, in his lowest moments, as if coming back to New York was slowly chipping away at what he gained in Paris. He _knew_ that it wasn’t true — struggling with one of the most virtuosic piano pieces of all time was reasonable and far from cause for alarm — but he sat there feeling defeated by Rach 3 anyway. And if he didn’t find a way to stop himself from spiraling right now, he thought to himself, then the frustration and insecurity would spread, and he couldn’t let that happen.

Remus took a deep, steadying breath and dropped a hand away from his face, moving to rest his chin inside the open palm of his right hand, and looked down at the keys. He let his left hand glide lightly down the lower register, just feeling the smooth, cool ivory sliding underneath his fingertips. After a few moments, his hand seemed to move intuitively to a familiar configuration, and he lifted his chin to allow his right hand to follow; he placed his left thumb on E flat and rocked back to A flat as his right hand began the soft arpeggiated phrase on middle C. Muscle memory took over immediately, his mind full of ease, and he was surprised by how vividly he remembered this piece for how long it had been since he had played it.

He was afraid to calculate exactly how many years it had been, not interested in the implications that information could hold. But he knew for certain that it had been a _long_ time. And yet, here it was, being gracefully played by his fingers as if he had last performed the four minute piece just yesterday.

As he made it through the first cadenza, Remus noted how easy it felt to stop thinking and let his hands lead him instead. Or was it his heart? They were interconnected at this point, so it was all the same anyway, he thought with a light laugh, although he did love this piece deeply — he always had. Liszt had been inspired by a poem when he had composed it, a poem that described the highest, purest love, and the emotional crippling the poet experienced when he lost it.

As the first theme returned, this time beginning in C major and quickly reverting back to A flat major, the turbulent tonal shifts felt more personal, more applicable to Remus’ own life, than ever before. He could feel the anguish that the poet had articulated in words — that Liszt had further expressed in music — reflected back to him, as if the piece were gently acknowledging Remus’ own turmoil. And for the first time since rehearsals had started in New York, he felt that deep emotional connection with the piano that he had been trying so hard to recapture since he left Europe.

Remus’ hands rested on the final notes as the sound waves faded into silence, and he dropped his head. “That was beautiful,” a gentle voice rang through the auditorium.

Remus’ reaction time was slowed, like he was coming out of a dream; but a long moment later, he registered the voice and couldn’t help but smile from the deja vu of it all. He lifted his hands from the piano and looked to his right as Sirius approached. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Just for the last ten minutes or so. I was going to sneak out without saying anything, but then you started playing that piece, so,” Sirius said as he sat down on one of the folding chairs set up near the piano, “I didn’t really have a choice, you understand.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Remus said, looking down at the keys, still feeling strangely awestruck. “I haven’t played Liebestraum in _years_ ,” Remus admitted.

Sirius leaned forward with his elbows relaxed against his knees. “And you still had it memorized?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Apparently,” Remus laughed, “But it would be a hard one to forget completely, so I can’t say I’m too surprised.”

“Yes, some melodies just stick with you forever I guess,” Sirius observed.

Remus nodded. “What’s yours then?” he asked, “The piece that will stick with you forever.”

Sirius smiled up at him as he tilted his head in thought. “Easy,” he mused, sitting up straighter and crossing his arms. He let his knee swing slowly from side before he answered. “La Campanella,” and he nodded at Remus, “Now play it for me.”

Remus couldn’t hold back the laugh that immediately burst from his chest, and the memories of when he had had to learn that piece at Julliard flooded back. It was the third of Liszt’s six Grandes Etudes and widely renowned as one of the most difficult pieces for piano ever written. It had haunted Remus for a full year and consistently ruined many of his days up until it all of a sudden seemed to click. Sirius knew that, of course, as he was the one who got to listen to Remus gripe about it nonstop.

“Never again. No amount of money — well that’s not exactly true, but it would have to be a lot,” Remus laughed. “Okay, tell me really.”

Sirius relaxed his posture and hummed for a second before responding, “Ravel, Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, blinking a moment as if to bat away the effect that the title had on him, “Impressionist. And a somber one,” he commented, almost as a question.

Sirius tipped his chin up and smiled quizzically. “What did you expect?” he asked, “A Chopin waltz?”

“Well, no. You just never had a thing for slower pieces. Used to be quite the complainer any time you had to ‘suffer’ through one.” Remus continued, putting on an accent now, “‘Bloody lullabies, Remus, I didn’t come to America to play lullabies to children,’” — Sirius snorted loudly— “‘I have a baby brother back at home, I never would have needed to leave England’ — I think I remember you saying?”

Sirius recovered a moment later, and of note, was not arguing. “I’m a complex man, Remus,” he started as he stood up from the chair, “capable of growth and learning.” He waved his hand at Remus to signal for him to either move off of the piano bench or scoot over. After a nanosecond of internal debate, Remus took the safe route and stood up, walking to the empty chair as Sirius slipped in to take his place. Sirius situated his foot over the pedal and lifted his hands slowly up to the keys, then squinted for a moment, as if he were trying to remember something.

When Sirius finally began to play, Remus wasn’t sure if he had ever seen him take his time with an instrument — with anything — in this way before. Sirius’ hands looked like they were barely moving, but a floating, ethereal melody emerged over light chords, and Remus was entranced immediately. He shut his eyes and let the music wash over him, like Impressionist compositions often beckoned him to. Ravel’s pacing felt like honey inside Remus’ brain, and the texture of the melody gradually richened with modal harmonies and brief measures of mezzo-forte, then forte, always returning to the soft, lush volume the piece began in. It was the sound of nostalgia, of a strange resigned sadness.

He was quiet for a while, and so was Sirius, once he’d finished a few short minutes later. Remus finally opened his eyes. Sirius just stayed at the piano, gaze still set in front of him, giving Remus the tragic opportunity to let his eyes fall on Sirius’ profile, and the lock of hair that had come loose from his hair tie, unnoticed. He looked away and finally broke the silence. “It’s infuriating, actually,” he said, his voice coming out so much lighter than he felt, “that you can be one of the best violinists in the world and then just sit down at the piano and play like _that_.”

It was a long moment before Sirius reacted at all. “Well you know my technique is shit,” he said finally, then he shifted his body around so that he was facing Remus, a comfortable smile on his face now.

“It doesn’t even matter, it always feels like magic when you play,” Remus said. “God that sounds corny, forget that,” he added, rolling his eyes at himself and letting out a half-laugh, “But yes, it’s infuriating, and I stand by that.” Then he shook his head and added in a tone of wonder, “It’s just so natural for you.”

Sirius tucked the loose strands of hair back behind his ear and shook his head firmly, apparently reading between the lines. “I need you to stop being so hard on yourself, Rem,” Sirius implored, now looking directly at him with an expression that made it clear he expected Remus to listen, and listen well, “The more you obsess about being perfect, the more difficult you are making it on yourself. Just play for _you_ , and stop worrying about what you think people want to hear. Don't give your energy away to that. You’re our soloist for Christ’s sake — the orchestra will adapt around you, that’s what we are here for.”

Although something felt like it unlocked in Remus’ chest, like a tiny gear turning somewhere deep inside his center, he just tipped his head forward and looked up at Sirius. “My, what cliche and intangible advice,” he deadpanned.

Sirius brought a hand up to his chest in a show of faux offense, but his eyes still held the same intensity and conviction when he quipped, “It only feels like _‘magic’_ every time I play, but fine, what do I know?” Remus sighed and just lolled his head to the side in response, but stayed silent. Sirius dropped his hand down to the bench and trained his eyes on him. “I will tell you why you used the word ‘magic’. It’s because I embody the spirit of that piece when I play it, even if I don’t get the accents or the timing perfect every time, and I do that because I understand it. Not here,” he pointed to his temple and then lowered his hand to his heart, “but here.” Sirius continued, “I know you, and you’ve been up there in your head, worrying, since the first rehearsal. Remus, you can do this — just let yourself do it. Don’t try to play Rach 3 clinically, don’t even listen too much to Minerva — that’s boring. Play as Remus Lupin.”

Remus regarded him silently for a moment. “How do you do that?” Remus conceded, finally taking a seat in one of the folding chairs set out for the symphony.

“I personalize the music around how it makes me feel. I welcome it into my own life, allow whatever memory it reminds me of to come in, even if it‘s sad, and just play. You’ve already got the technique down, you have for years, so the first thing you should do is stop thinking about it. Stop going through a checklist in your head.”

Remus nodded. “Okay.”

“People didn’t buy tickets to see you play Rach 3 like a clone of other performances. It’s your opportunity to make it personal, to really feel into where your soul wants to take it, so that the audience gets to witness more than just a technically perfect piano piece. You have the power to make Rach 3 personal to them too — you have the power to bring up some of their best memories, their worst memories, their saddest memories, their happiest memories.” Sirius waited a moment and reached back to trill on the keys lightly in thought. “This isn’t revolutionary, mind, you were doing it with Liebestraum when I walked in. And I’ve seen you do the same with that Beethoven a thousand times— it becomes a different piece according to your mood when you’re fully in it. So what’s the issue with this one?”

Remus sighed, wondering when Sirius had turned into some sort of musical psychologist. Then again, this kind of thing had always been more of Sirius’ forte anyway, even if he hadn’t learned how to verbalize it yet. But now he could, apparently, and it was throwing Remus through a bit of a loop. Regardless, everything that Sirius had said was correct — there was something strangely restrictive about his relationship with this piece, and it made him feel like the only solution was to be in hyper-control of every single element.

Remus took a moment to think about Rach 3 beyond its technical difficulty — because Sirius was right that he had that down, and it occurred to him he was unnecessarily placing all of his focus onto that, like an avoidance tactic for the real problem, whatever it was. So he decided to start taking Sirius’ advice right then and there, and he didn’t even consider censoring his thoughts when he answered the question. It was for his benefit, afterall, so it would be stupid to hold back.

“There are a lot of moving parts in my life right now,” Remus explained vaguely, using his hands as if they may help him out somehow. “A lot of things that I don’t want to think about right now, and a lot of things I don’t want to think about _ever_ , if I’m honest.” Remus dared to catch Sirius’ eye for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to settle on the stage. “I keep telling myself, ‘well I’ll figure _this_ out later, after the performance. Or, I’ll make myself think about _that_ after Christmas. But I think the effort to just fixate on Rach 3 and avoid the rest is only hurting my ability to connect with the music.” After he said it, he felt another gear turn into place in his chest, and then the memory of performing this piece at Julliard with a familiar figure in the front row bubbled up spontaneously in his mind. The soft lights, the ease and tranquility, the way he could distinctly feel that person’s presence despite the auditorium being packed.

Sirius’ voice took him out of the strange reverie. “Right. Maybe they are all related,” Sirius said gently. Remus just nodded, grateful when Sirius continued on, “Try to embrace it. It’s good to feel things, even if it’s sadness or uncertainty. It means that you’re human. And look, Remus, I’m not going to actually try to tell you what to do because (a) I know you hate that and you’d shut me right out if I tried,” Remus couldn’t help but laugh at this, which brought a smile to Sirius’ face as well, “and (b), you’re brilliant, and you already know all of this. Maybe being back in New York City is throwing you off some — that’s understandable, cut yourself some slack — but you’ll figure it out.”

“When did you become so insightful?” Remus asked, forcing a laugh out to try to hide how foreign his voice sounded, even to his own ears.

“Seven years can change someone a lot,” Sirius replied carefully, as if he knew he was treading close to an undefined boundary that Remus wasn’t even aware that he had created. “And when you are forced to navigate your own feelings, and your own shortcomings, the bright side is that you can help others get through theirs later on.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, considering for the first time that perhaps things hadn’t gone quite as easily for the other man as he had always assumed they had.

Sirius continued in the same careful tone, “Obviously I don’t know what’s going on for you, and it would be ridiculous of me to expect you to tell me, given everything,” Remus watched as Sirius let his gaze drop to the floor for a moment, then scrubbed a hand over his face, before he finished, “but you at least have James and Lily here, and I know for a fact that they care deeply about you. And if you ever do want to talk to me, I’ll be here too.”

Remus swallowed dryly and nodded, wondering if he would ever get to that point. At the moment it seemed impossible — Remus had been so in love with the other man, and being blindsided at the end of their relationship was the darkest time of his life — especially when this interaction was proving for the millionth time how alluring Sirius was to him. So not now, for Remus’ sanity at the very least. But Sirius was right about a lot, and he had people locally whom he could turn to for support if he needed it.

Remus cleared his throat. “So what are you doing with your weekend?” It felt like a safe topic in one way, but in another it wasn’t. This was the first time he had asked Sirius for any detail about his life, and it appeared to surprise the other man as much as it did himself. 

Sirius smiled and leaned against the piano before answering, “I’d like to work on a composition, and then James and I have a footie game tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to come watch if you need a break to clear your head or get some time in the sun.”

“That sounds nice,” Remus replied automatically, “but I just don’t have the extra time right now. And I promised to meet James and Lily for dinner tomorrow night. Maybe next time though.”

Sirius nodded before a smile crept further up his face, and Remus felt that peculiar feeling again when he realized Sirius was probably reacting to some newly summoned memory. He slowly opened his mouth and asked, “Do you remember that time that James forced you to play with us?”

Remus hummed and picked at a worn spot at the knee of his black jeans as he pretended to think for a second. “Oh, the time he broke my nose? Why no, I can’t seem to recall that terrible day.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened and took on a glazed-over look. “There was _so much blood_.”

Remus snorted and nodded with feeling. “But at least it put an end to your guys’ incessant attempts to get me to play every other weekend,” he offered.

“No boundaries, that one,” Sirius said, folding his arms and looking downright appalled. “An absolutely terrible human being. The worst.” Remus leaned his elbows down on his knees as his shoulders quaked with silent laughter.

“But… Speaking of boundaries, I’d hate to overstep mine,” Sirius chimed in again, and Remus looked back up at Sirius. He was surprised that he felt some disappointment when Sirius stood up from the piano. “Your hands are probably twitching in withdrawal right now, so I’ll let you get back to it. But, think about what I said, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded quickly as he stood up, bringing his eyes to meet Sirius’ directly, “I will. And thank you.”

Sirius shrugged, shooting Remus a soft parting smile, and started walking towards the exit of the auditorium.

“Hey, Sirius?” Remus wasn’t sure what pushed him to call back out to him, maybe it was the fact that a part of his resolve had been softened by their conversation.

Sirius turned back, saying nothing, but Remus knew that he had his full attention.

“I don’t know if James told you… but I’m moving back to New York after Christmas,” he said.

“Oh?” Sirius responded evenly, and by his reaction, Remus figured that he had actually delivered the news before James did. That was surprising.

“Yeah,” Remus laughed awkwardly, unsure of where he was going with this. “I’m apartment-hunting right now, and it’s a total nightmare.”

Sirius nodded. “I can imagine.”

Remus carded a hand through his hair and added, “If you know of any places opening up in Manhattan, or anyone needing a roommate, send them my way?”

“Absolutely, Rem. I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks,” Remus responded. The two men held each other’s gaze for another moment before Remus turned back to the piano. A few seconds later, he heard the door open and then close again. 

Remus placed his hands back on the keys and exhaled slowly, recognizing that he did feel lighter than before, just from talking to Sirius for the little time that they’d had. He was right — Remus was the featured soloist, and the accompanying symphony was here to support him, in a very real sense. Their conversation replayed in his head, and he reflected on Sirius’ point about the audience, too. They weren’t there to see Rach 3 played by Rachmaninoff, or Horowitz, or Argerich. The performance needed to be technically sound, of course, but it also needed to be _his._

It was an odd thought, being only 29 and considering that his perspective, his interpretation, could mean something to those who listened to his music. Remus had never thought about what his personal contribution was to the music that he played, only whether or not he was doing it justice. Not that he had ever even considered it, but he would have thought it seemed silly — silly to think that he could hold a place similar to the most renowned classical pianists, to even compare himself to them. But he was more experienced now. If he didn’t start seeing himself as their equals, then the outcome would be self-fulfilling, and he would fade away into the distance. If he didn’t start putting himself out there, imbuing his performances with his own voice, he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life.

It was funny really, how something that had held him back in his personal life was rearing its head in his music now — the one part of his life that he had foolishly thought was a safe haven, protected from his insecurities and uncertainties. Life was always consistent if nothing else, though, he had found throughout the years, and a person could never really overcome weaknesses unless willing to face them head on.

For the first time in days, optimism surged through Remus’ body and gathered at his fingertips. Things were clicking into place now, and instead of being intimidated by the piece, he only felt hope. Or, the hope was currently overriding the fear at least. Remus started the third movement, for what was probably the 10th time that day, but now, somehow, it felt like the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liszt's 'Liebestraum No. 3' (the song that Remus plays from memory): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpOtuoHL45Y
> 
> Liszt's 'La Campanella' (the very difficult song that Remus does not enjoy playing): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0U73NRSIkw
> 
> Ravel's 'Pavane Pour une Infante Défunte' (the song that Sirius plays from memory): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPHSHZssOLs


	7. Chapter 7

The weekend passed quickly for Remus as his Sirius-fueled epiphany brought with it a renewed energy for Rach 3. He spent the rest of Friday and most of Saturday rotating between piano practice, walks in Central Park, and trips to the coffee shop — Remus had been accused of being a creature of habit, and, hey, the accusers weren’t wrong. But atypical to his normal routine, he spent Saturday night in Hoboken, the best part of which was reuniting with Lily, whom he missed much more than he’d let on. Lily held a special place in his heart and had always been his partner in crime when the four of them got together— Sirius and James were a tornado, and she was a gentle breeze counteracting them, and often, putting them in their place. 

The moment she opened the front door for Remus in a flurry of bright red hair, she quickly pulled him into a shockingly tight hug for her size, and he couldn’t help but squeeze her almost just as aggressively back. She acted like no time at all had passed since they saw each other last, immediately shoving a glass of wine into his hand, banishing James out to the barbecue, then pulling Remus over to sit next to her on the couch and demanding a thorough update on his life (the highlight reel wouldn’t do). Twenty minutes into their catch-up, James scolded Lily for stealing all of his “Remus time” and set to giving him an almost unbearably detailed tour of the small townhouse while the halibut was grilling. Remus didn’t  _ need _ to know what each cabinet in the bathrooms held, and he didn’t  _ need  _ to know an in depth bio of every neighbor on the street, but it amused him nonetheless. An A+ for enthusiasm. 

Lily eventually meandered to the kitchen to put away the extra fish and veggies they didn’t get through, calling over her shoulder to describe an upcoming weekend vacation she and James were taking to Cape Cod before the holidays, and the topic seemed to jog her memory about something because she broke off mid-sentence with a squeal and quickly rejoined them at the dinner table. She went on to explain that James’ parents decided to spend Thanksgiving in Hawaii this year, and since James refused to take that much time off — “somebody has to keep the associates excited, Remus, I’m the morale booster” — they were hosting dinner at their place for the first time ever. After a great night of catching up, Remus was eager to continue making up for lost time and accepted as soon as Lily invited him. He wouldn’t be flying home until December 1st, and it was the perfect opportunity to replant some roots in the city he was about to call home again. Plus he had a feeling James would have hunted him down and dragged him over if he had declined. 

Sunday flew by as quickly as the days before it. Remus spent half his time at the piano and the other half resting at his apartment, alternating between letting himself get sucked into a couple episodes of mindless television and reading his book. By the time Monday morning’s rehearsal rolled around, Remus felt far more relaxed and rejuvenated than he had in the recent past. He was even looking forward to it. 

He walked into the auditorium his usual twenty minutes early and was surprised to find Marlene perched at the piano, presumably waiting for him. She still lacked her typical joyous glow, Remus noted, but she was at least smiling at him as he approached, so that was an improvement. Maybe she had reached some sort of resolution over the weekend that had put her mind more at ease.

“Hello,” she chimed when Remus came in earshot, and he gave her a wave.

“How are you?” Remus chimed back, smiling and leaning against the piano leisurely.

“Better since I heard you’re staying in New York for good,” she mused, reaching over to tug at the sleeve of his jacket. “A little birdie told me you’re looking for an apartment in Manhattan?”

“I am,” Remus said with a nod. “Know of anybody looking for a roommate or subletter or anything?” he asked before taking a drink of his coffee.

“I sure do,” Marlene said and wiggled her eyebrows twice, “me.”

Remus’ posture straightened and he replied with widened eyes, “No kidding? That was fast.” And it  _ was  _ fast; he had only mentioned his move to Sirius three days ago. He’d never been this lucky before.

Marlene raised her hand up, as if honoring the divine timing of it all, and gave a dramatic sigh. “It was obviously meant to be. The universe willed it.” 

Remus hummed in agreement, settling back into his leisurely stance against the piano. He wondered for a second if she, too, had a malachite crystal at home, but that would be a separate conversation. “And you’d want me as a roommate?” Remus double-checked.

Marlene adopted a faux serious tone when she replied, “Well, I have it on very good authority that you are a clean and considerate living partner,” Remus raised his eyebrows at the information, “Plus, I already liked you anyway. When you know, you know,” she finished with a small smile that Remus returned. After a moment, she added “So do you want to come by and see the place?”

“I’d love to,” Remus rushed to answer, “What part of Manhattan are you in?”

“Washington Heights. Does that work?” she asked crossing her fingers in front of her.

Remus waved a hand and replied, simply not believing his luck right now, “Washington Heights is perfect.” And that neighborhood, he knew from research, was one of the more affordable areas in Manhattan; it had also become more popular with young professionals since he’d been away, so all things considered, Washington Heights was a top choice. Plus it wasn’t too long of a train ride from the Upper West Side, where’d he would likely spend a lot of time using Julliard’s piano rooms. 

Remus added, “It wouldn’t be until January though. Or it could be later than that if January is too soon.”

Marlene nodded slowly as her eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment. “Yes, I think that should work,” she posited, “It may be a little later than January, depending on how soon John can find a new place, but we can figure it out.”

“Oh, are you…” Remus paused for a second as he contemplated how to approach the subject, “Are you sure this isn’t too soon to be looking for someone?”

“You mean, am I sure that we have broken up?” Marlene asked more directly and Remus just nodded in response. “I’m positive. I’m not going to change my mind, Remus, you don’t have to worry about that. I am just trying to be as thoughtful as I can about him and how hard it is to find good housing in the city — it just might take a little while. At the same time, the sooner I can move my life forward and encourage him to move his forward without hanging on, the better. You know?” 

Remus nodded again, hearing her point loud and clear. He hadn’t been in her shoes before exactly, but with the small pieces of information he had gathered about the break-up, and knowing things were generally amicable between them, he could imagine some of what she was going through. It occurred to him how uniquely challenging it must be for her to hold a firm line when the other party was hoping for reconciliation. He’d never had that problem, not even close. “I’m sorry about all of that,” Remus said.

She shrugged again but met his eyes with a tight smile, and Remus thought her eyes looked a little shinier than before. “It’s just life. It sucks now, but I’m told it gets better,” she said, a laugh breaking through.

Remus shot her the best look of consolation he could and nodded again. “That’s the thing about time. It tends to fix everything if you let it,” Remus heard himself say. He took a pause before reverting back to the previous topic, which was starting to feel like much stabler ground. “When do you want me to come see it?” Remus asked, feeling immediate relief when she perked up again and started talking logistics.

“Oh anytime, really,” she said, “After rehearsal today works, or tomorrow. I have some errands to run in the afternoon, but I’m free in the morning. Later this week works well too if you want to come before one of our performances.” 

“If rehearsal goes well today, do you mind if I just come right after?” Remus replied, “I’d love to see it as soon as possible so that I have one less thing on my mind.” 

“Absolutely, we can ride there together,” Marlene said with finality.

“Perfect,” Remus affirmed, and Marlene stood up from the piano to let him take his place. Remus gave her a squeeze around her shoulders before she left, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, returning the hug he’d intuited she needed just then. As Marlene let go of him and moved to take her place, Remus heard Sirius greeting her. He turned to nod at Sirius, equal parts hello and thanks, before turning back to the piano. 

Rehearsal flew right on by. Minerva seemed more than pleased at Remus’ internal transformation, evident by the lack of comments directed towards him the entire day and the looks of abject triumph she sent him instead. It probably wasn’t noticeable to many people in the room except for Remus and Minerva, and maybe Sirius, but that made it no less significant. He was on the right track now; he was sure of it. Letting go of expectations, and choosing not to funnel the majority of his focus into the technicalities of the piece, had opened up a new door for him, and he couldn’t believe how quickly he saw a positive difference. Granted, he had probably spent more than 25 hours practicing over the past three days, but he had finally adopted the mindset that was solving his problem organically. The piece no longer felt rigid at his fingertips, rather, freeing and expressive. It had been as simple as that.

Minerva wrapped up the day about four hours later after the symphony had successfully performed Rach 3 in its entirety three times. It was a huge relief, Remus thought, to be leaving the final rehearsal before dress feeling so at peace with the performance. The entire day was going well, really, he reflected. The performance would be a success, and now he had probably secured a place to live in New York after the holidays. He didn’t want to jinx himself, but he couldn’t help but think that it would be smooth sailing from this point on. 

“Great rehearsal, all, you really stepped it up today and it shows,” Minerva applauded the group to close up rehearsal. “Get some rest before Wednesday; dress rehearsal will begin at 7pm, but as usual, you’ll need to arrive an hour early. Until then, take it easy. Thanks everybody.” 

Remus nodded, at nobody in particular, and started packing his score away. When he pulled out his phone to check to see if he had missed any texts during rehearsal, he was surprised to see a message from Andrew asking if he wanted to grab another drink sometime soon. Remus was surprised, not having thought about the other man much since the night they met. Although Remus didn’t feel anything deeper for him, the thought of seeing him again did send a bolt of excitement through his body, so he texted him back in the affirmative and listed some times he would be free that week. 

He heard the familiar click of Minerva’s heels walking off the stage before he registered Marlene’s voice call to him again. “I’d say that went well enough for you to come see the place now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus laughed, tucking his phone away, “let’s do it.” 

“Wow Marlene,” Sirius commented as he gently placed his violin into its case, “you work fast.”

“Yeah, well, when someone like Remus is on the market, you don’t wait,” she quipped, markedly hiding her face from view as she busied herself with packing up her cello. Sirius released some sound between a choke and cough, cutting himself off before it fully formed, but didn’t say anything more in response to the clearly intentional jab.

“Shall we go then?” Remus asked quickly as he stood up, absolutely certain now that he could trust Marlene to make things as uncomfortable as possible when she set her mind to it. 

“Absolutely,” she responded innocently as she stood up as well. They said quick goodbyes to Sirius and whoever else was in earshot before heading to the exit. 

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” Remus gestured to the large cello case that Marlene was carrying as he held the door for her.

“Nah, if I carry this thing around everyday, I don’t have to join a gym,” Marlene quipped as she led them in the direction of the nearest subway station. “That’s a big thing to know about me, Remus,” she continued, “I hate the gym.”

“Noted,” he said with a laugh as they approached the stairs and moved to single-file formation. “I hate tennis balls,” he called over his shoulder.

“What?!” he heard Marlene exclaim from behind him.

He turned toward her when he reached the bottom. “We’re getting to know each other,” he explained, gesturing between them, “You told me something you hate, I told you something I hate.”

“But why a tennis ball?!” she asked, as if she’d never get over the confusion, “They are so innocent.”

Remus shuddered physically. “The smell, the way they feel, just everything is wrong. The idea of touching one and my fingernails catching against the felt makes my whole body cringe. Like nails on a chalkboard.”

Marlene stared at him for a couple of seconds before descending the rest of the way down into the train station. “Alrighty. No tennis balls then.”

“And no dragging you to the gym,” Remus promised, moving through the entry doors to the platform.

“Much appreciated,” she offered, a little strained as she carefully lugged the cello through the narrow passageway; Remus extended a hand to her, but she just waved him off again, and added, “I also hate avocado.”

“Wow, a polarizing statement. I don’t know how we will ever get along,” Remus commented, clicking his tongue. “I also hate drivers who don’t follow basic traffic laws because they think that they’re doing another driver a favor. Like stopping when they have the right-of-way so that someone with a stop sign can go. No. It just fucks it up for everyone else. It’s not kind, it’s unaware and destructive,” Remus concluded with passion. Apparently this was one of his hot button topics.

“Oh my, calm Remus is getting so angry,” Marlene observed with what Remus thought was an impressed smile, “and just because people are trying to be  _ nice.” _

“NO, it’s actually  _ dangerous _ —“ Remus started with gusto, but before he could continue on his rant, he realized by the shit-eating grin on her face that Marlene was goading him on.

“A man with conviction, I like it,” she said, linking her arm up with his for a second. “Come on, our train is coming.” They hustled over to the subway car, and it turned out to be an easy ride to Washington Heights, less than 30 minutes and no need to switch lines. Just another reason the setup would be perfect for Remus.

They neared Marlene’s apartment after a ten minute walk from the station, during which Remus zipped up his jacket and expressed silent gratitude again for New York in the late fall— the air chilled, the beginnings of the winter cold that would be upon them in a few short weeks, and Remus was in weather heaven. 

They headed toward a white, modern building at the corner of an intersection, and there was a small Meditarranean restaurant across the street selling falafel that smelled amazing. Marlene explained that her apartment was on the third floor and situated at a corner, so they could hear very little noise from neighbors, as she typed in her security keycode at the lobby door. To be quite honest, Remus could already tell from these small details that this was much nicer than the places that he had lived in since moving out of Cleveland, and he was shocked that it wouldn’t cost him over $1,400 a month. 

“Here it is, folks, the moment you’ve been waiting for,” Marlene announced as she unlocked the door, stepping inside and holding it open with her foot so Remus could enter. He walked through a narrow hallway with a small kitchen on his right and a quaint — or, moderately-sized for New York — living room straight in front of him. All of the floors were hardwood, the appliances were new, and the entire apartment was immaculately clean. “My room is over here on the right, and yours is just through that door behind you,” Marlene motioned to the left side of the room as she carefully set her instrument aside. “There’s only one bathroom, unfortunately, and it’s next to my room. But trust me, it’s almost impossible to find a two bed two bath around here.”

“No no, I expected that,” Remus said with a firm nod, “If you do magically find one with two baths, the price is so jacked up it doesn’t make sense.” He was well-aware of the price differential on rentals back when he’d diligently led the apartment search in Brooklyn, and he assumed nothing had changed — or gotten better, at the very least — over the years.

“Right,” Marlene commented as she walked over to the room that would be Remus’. “It’s a bit cluttered right now because John’s been sleeping in a pull-out couch in here, and his giant desktop computer and desk are in here too. But, obviously that will all be cleared out,” she said, gesturing at the right-hand side of the room which, indeed, had one of the more intense computer set-ups he had ever seen.

Remus nodded, able to imagine how his belongings would fit into the room very clearly. In short, the apartment was perfect. Or, to be more accurate, as perfect as it was going to get. He still couldn’t believe his luck that the timing was working out so well for him, and with somebody so clean and organized, whom he was actually starting to adore. Sure, the room was small, but it would fit his bed and his digital piano, and that was all he even needed, really.

“It’s amazing, Marlene. It’s all great,” he said, turning bodily toward her, “If you’re sure about this, then let’s do it.” 

“Yay!” Marlene exclaimed with a giddy clap of her hands, “That’s fantastic! Once we figure out dates, I’ll work with the landlord to add you to the lease then?”

“Sure,” Remus replied as he backed out into the living room. 

“Let’s order dinner,” Marlene suggested with excitement as she moved into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a handful of paper menus. “We have to celebrate this blessed union. And you don’t want to go home right now anyway, you’ll hit rush hour with all of the sweaty commuters.”

“Excellent point,” Remus said as he started to look through the various menus that Marlene had handed him. 

“I’m pulling out a bottle of wine too. Red or white?” she called back as she waltzed back into the kitchen.

Remus hummed in contemplation as he reviewed his choices, thinking of what the best pairing would be, and paused when he got to the menu of a gourmet pizza place. “Let’s do pizza and red.” 

“Perfect,” Marlene sing-songed, her voice carrying melodiously through the apartment. Remus heard the sound of a cork being pulled out of a bottle before Mary reentered the room with a bottle in one hand and two empty glasses in the other. “It’s a cabernet from Paso Robles, the best. I’ve been saving it for a good night.” 

“I’m honored,” Remus responded. Marlene returned the smile, set down the two classes on the coffee table, and began to pour. 

“Let me order the pizzas, okay?” she said, handing him his glass, “They have this potato, bacon, and fennel pizza that you’ve got to try. I force it on everybody, it’s fucking amazing. And then I’ll order a traditional too, don’t worry.” 

“Whatever you want,” Remus confirmed, and he meant it, “Your passion tells me that you know from experience. I’d be a fool not to trust you.”

“Smart man,” Marlene noted as she pulled out her phone and navigated to the delivery app. After a few minutes and a couple of questions about Remus’ topping preferences, she set her phone upside down next to her and relaxed more into the couch, taking her first sip of wine. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she commented in an overcome tone, “Yes. Needed this.”

Remus caught the implication and decided this wouldn’t be a bad time to check in with her again now that they were alone. “So… how are you feeling with,” Remus gestured awkwardly around the room, “everything going on?”

Marlene’s eyes fluttered about for a moment as she considered the question. “It sucks,” she responded bluntly, and Remus decided that her boldness was his favorite trait of hers. Maybe some of that could rub off of him. “Half of the time I can’t tell if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m going to regret breaking up with one of the greatest guys ever and be sad for the rest of my life. But I have to remind myself of how I feel every time he brings up marriage.” 

“Not good?” Remus asked.

“Awful,” Marlene said, shaking her head as if it pained her. “The topic just makes me feel sick. It’s not something I can logically explain. I just don’t want it. So I have to hurt somebody who loves me more than anyone else ever has,” she elabored, then repeated, “It fucking sucks.”

Remus groaned. “I can’t even imagine,” he commented softly, “I’ve never been in that position before.”

“I think it’s worse than being broken up with, honestly, which I know is saying a lot. I just feel so guilty,” explained, then sighed before turning the glass’ stem between her fingers absently. “And I’m mad at myself about it too. I probably should have addressed it sooner, but I hoped that something inside of me would change — would start to want it too if I tried enough? Deep down I knew all along, but I let it drag out, not wanting to hurt him. Which is stupid of course, because it was inevitable and I should have cut it off sooner for his sake.”

Remus sighed and paused for a couple of moments. The situation was very different, but felt so familiar, and hearing it from the other side felt like a weight was dropped in the pit of his stomach. He tried not to let it, but he felt the sting of rejection even years later as he listened to Marlene explain her perspective — especially now that everything was a little closer to the surface than it had been in a very long time, given the circumstances. The reopened wound wasn’t just a product of Sirius, although that was most of it; it was also made up of everything that the breakup had revealed to Remus about himself, and the struggle of navigating it completely on his own on a new continent with a new job, both of which he hadn’t planned on being alone for at the time.

“Did he take it well at least?” Remus managed to ask evenly. 

“He did,” Marlene said in an optimistic tone, but dropping her head, as if this was both a good and a bad thing. “Always the gentleman. He was very sad, but didn’t try to convince me to change my mind. He accepted it,” Marlene said, taking another sip from her glass, “which made it so much easier for me because if he had fought, I might’ve given in. And that wouldn’t have been right. He’s just a great guy.” 

Remus hummed. “He’ll be alright, Marlene.” 

“Yeah?” she asked, smiling dully. Remus noticed that her eyes were glistening now, and he thought that maybe this was a reason that he’d gone through what he had. So he could help somebody else through it one day. 

“I was in John’s position once,” he started hesitantly, feeling a little silly because Marlene probably already knew more than he was comfortable with, but he continued anyway. “And a part of me was very surprised by it — totally blindsided — but another part of me had seen the signs. The thing is, John was in the relationship too, Marlene. He felt that you weren’t fully invested, and he chose to stay for as long as he did without addressing it with you. You don’t deserve to feel guilty for all of it. He chose the dynamic as much as you did.”

Marlene kept her gaze on Remus’ face, and it was like a fog had cleared somewhere behind her eyes as he looked back at her. “That’s incredibly insightful,” she said quietly, “Thank you. Nobody has ever put it like that before.”

He laughed softly. “It’s not something I realized for a long time though, so don’t give me too much credit,” Remus warned, “I’ve just had years to think about it.”

Marlene was quiet for a minute, mulling over Remus’ words, but he was unsure if she was thinking about her own situation or his. “I so badly want him to find somebody who loves him as much as he loves me,” she added.

“And now he has a chance to,” Remus said simply, “You’ve given him the opportunity to find that now. You were never going to be able to force yourself to want what he wanted. Love doesn’t work like that, unfortunately.”

“It’d be so much easier if it did,” she practically whined and huffed a dark laugh, rubbing at her temple with her free hand. “Maybe I’m the problem. I can’t help but wonder if I have some deep-seated intimacy issues because I don’t want to commit to him.”

“Or,” Remus swirled his wine glass, wondering how blunt he should be. But it was Marlene, so he was sure she’d appreciate a truthful opinion, “he just isn’t right for you and you’re trying to rationalize hanging around because it’s scary to be alone, especially after being with somebody for so many years.”

“Well, shit,” she said after a while.

“There’s this huge misconception that there is always a big terrible reason people breakup, or one person is evil for breaking the other person’s heart. And that just isn’t true. Humans are more complex than that. A lot of times, people just aren’t compatible or the timing isn’t right. It’s as simple as that. Doesn’t make anyone a bad person, even though it still fucking hurts. I mean, figuring out who you want to be with long term is a really important decision.”

“But maybe it’s just the idea of marriage that’s putting me off, you know? And I’m throwing something great away because of society’s pressure for people to get married or something like that,” she said in a tone of curiosity.

Remus scrunched his nose at Marlene, a little intrigued that someone as confident and seemingly put together as her had such a difficult time accepting something so simple. But that’s how it always seemed to be with issues related to love, right? “But he does want to get married.”

“Yes, very much so,” she confirmed.

Remus blinked. “And you don’t want to, at least to him,” he offered.

“Yes, and sometimes I feel like I want to date again,” she continued, “Other people. People who are more interested in what I am passionate about. John and I don’t really push each other to be better.”

“That’s a big deal,” Remus said.

“Right,” she sighed deeply, “I haven’t admitted that to anybody. And I know everyone feels that sometimes, even happily married people. But I think they know it’s worth it, because they know what they have is better than anything else. I have never had that feeling for John though, I was just waiting around for it to kick in, because I wanted it to. But it never did.” She draped her head back against the couch again and groaned loudly, “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“No you’re not,” Remus laughed, “if you sacrifice what you want for him, you’ll end up resenting him. And I doubt he wants that for either of you. I surely wouldn’t want that — John wants somebody who is excited about the future with him, not someone who is only with him because she is afraid that she won’t find someone better. You’d be an asshole if you married him under false pretenses and didn’t give him the opportunity to find what he is really looking for.”

She took a deep breath. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?” Marlene asked after a few seconds of consideration, “And we barely even know each other, it’s crazy.”

Remus shrugged. “I just realized that when something doesn’t feel right, there’s usually a pretty deep reason for it. It’s just a basic rule of life that I think a lot of people try to run away from when it means there is a difficult decision to make. And there are a million ways to rationalize away those reasons — usually by saying something is wrong with  _ yourself _ — but the thing is, you’re a really successful person with strong relationships, that’s pretty evident. You aren’t a broken person just because you don’t see a future with a great guy. You broke up with him for a reason, and it’s hard to get to the point to actually pull the trigger and do that. The fact that you got to that point at all says a lot, much more than words could ever convey, and you should trust what that feeling is trying to tell you.” 

Remus paused to check in silently with Marlene, wondering if he had gone a little too deep for what she was looking for, but the rapt expression on her face was all the answer he needed. He continued, “And none of this means you’re a bad person. Remember that. It just isn’t the right fit, which, by the way, most relationships aren’t. Hopefully this experience will make the right relationship even more obvious to you one day, and then it will be clear why you had to break up with John.”

She nodded. “I just wish I knew that he would be happy in the future — find someone great for him,” Marlene said after a minute. Her whole posture seemed to droop when she said it, and that confirmed to him that this was one of the hardest parts for her, and probably what had kept her around in the relationship for so long.

“Yeah,” Remus offered softly, “I know. But even him being by himself is better than being in a marriage where his spouse is deeply unhappy and regretful. Trust me on that… no one wants to feel like they’ve been settled for because it’s convenient.”

“Fuck. Yes.” After a few steadying breaths, she tilted her head back to face Remus and took a drink. “Have you dated anybody seriously since?” she asked eventually, looking back up and swirling her glass thoughtfully.

“Me? No, not really,” he answered with a small shrug, thinking briefly about the guys he had seen for a couple of months in Europe, but had fizzled out quickly. He didn’t know exactly why he continued, but he let himself talk without thinking about it, “I’m not quite sure that that is in the cards for me, you know? I don’t make deep connections with people very often and I find that when I settle for something less than exceptional, it just leaves me feeling empty. So I’ve just kept my dating life pretty casual since then. Low expectations keep me sane.”

Marlene wrinkled up her nose as she stared at Remus, holding his gaze for so long that he started to feel uncomfortable. He finally looked away and laughed, “What?”

“I just don’t buy it,” she said, leaning her head back against the couch and eyeing him.

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been seven years and you haven’t connected with somebody enough to date more than casually?” she answered with a question, but it was more like a statement.

“How do you know it’s been seven ye—“ 

“Oh cut the shit, Remus,” Marlene jumped in, but in a soft, knowing voice. She lifted her head again to regard him closely. “We both know you’re talking about Sirius.”

Remus sighed with something like a grimace on his face, feeling as if Marlene was intruding more than he’d prefer, but surprised his fight or flight response didn’t kick in like it usually did in these situations. If she had been James, he thought, he’d probably have launched into a strongly-worded lecture about privacy and shut him down. But somehow, when it was Marlene, he didn’t mind as much. “Fair enough.”

“So I don’t get it,” she prodded again.

Remus tugged at a loose thread at the hem of his t-shirt. He’d never verbalized this to anybody before, and it felt incredibly odd that someone he had known for less than two weeks was somehow pulling it out of him. “I guess I’ve realized over the years that I just don’t feel romantic connections as easily as other people do,” Remus tried to articulate. “I’m sure what I had with Sirius when I was so young didn’t help any — he was everything I ever thought I wanted, and he broke my heart. But like I said, it’s rarer for me in general.”

Marlene hummed in understanding and tipped her head to regard Remus for a moment. “He was `also only 22, you know,” she supplied tactfully.

“I do know,” Remus laughed again, probably in an unconscious attempt to lighten the heavy feeling that had now made its way into his chest. He raised the glass to his lips again for something to do and then added, “Just another reason I was stupid for thinking it was as serious as it was.”

Marlene shook her head and said, “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant that he could have been the stupid one. It’s usually difficult to realize how great something is when you’re only 22. You haven’t experienced much yet, it’s hard to gauge those things. But no, Remus, give yourself some credit. It’s okay to love someone and feel like you deserve to be loved in return. That doesn’t make you stupid.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but only barely so that Marlene wouldn’t pick up on it. He didn’t like this — didn’t like Marlene making assumptions, even though that’s precisely what he had just been doing with her. But she had initiated the conversation about her fallen relationship; he certainly had not. What Marlene had said twisted something inside of his stomach uncomfortably, and he sighed, as if trying to exhale the bad feelings away. He wasn’t going to fight her on it though, the last thing he wanted was some pep talk about how much worth Marlene believed he had; that was his nightmare. Instead he answered generically, hoping that they could brush over his history and that he could eventually divert the conversation back to her.

“No, I know. It just opened my eyes is all,” Remus elaborated, but he knew the first part was a lie right after he said it, even if he had only said it to brush her off, and he felt the tension rise in his body. He was inarguably, unequivocally stupid then, and that was the entire crux of the problem — stupid to have jumped into the deep end and deluded himself into believing Sirius had jumped in too. He took a sip of wine and reminded himself that was just the archetypal lesson that everyone learns in some way when their first love ends, not unique just to him, and he felt vaguely better again.

Marlene was watching him when he looked back at her. “I think you’re placing limitations on yourself that don’t exist,” she said simply.

He exhaled sharply this time. “No. You don’t know that,” Remus responded with a bit of force, restraining himself from saying something trite about her having no idea what he’d been through — that was juvenile, something he would have said when he was 15. “And I’m not complaining. I’m happy with my life, my career is going great. It’s all fine.”

Marlene modulated the tone of her own voice to meet Remus where he was at. “I’m just saying, Remus, that when I look at you, I see a very attractive, funny, hardworking guy who is extraordinarily talented and also fun to be around, which, by the way, is rare. So try not to doom yourself to a life of loneliness just yet, alright?”

“Sure, Marlene,” he said and narrowed his eyes at her good-naturedly, “But I’m fine, I promise.”

“Look, I know you’re _ fine _ ,” Marlene emphasized, but Remus was rescued from a conversation he wanted out of by the sound of her phone. Their food had arrived, so they both headed down to the main level of the complex to grab the delivery. On their way back up to the apartment, they bantered easily about lighter topics — TV shows they would plan to binge on together and favorite cleaning scents — and Remus thought hopefully that perhaps the topic of his love life had been exhausted. 

“Did you ever talk to Sirius about your breakup?” Marlene asked without any discomfort or preamble, as she grabbed some plates from the kitchen and Remus set the pizzas on the coffee table. Remus groaned internally, chiding himself for thinking that the conversation was over. 

“Nope,” he replied shortly, pouring himself more wine.

“Never? Not even back then?” Marlene prodded, opening the boxes.

“Didn’t need to. He made everything very clear. I just needed to get some distance and focus on my own life,” Remus said, voice coming out detached now.

“You might want to,” Marlene offered, “Your perspective on it may not be as accurate as you’ve led yourself to believe.” 

“Marlene, it’s not something that I need to revisit. It happened, it fucking blew, and then I moved on,” Remus answered with the same aloofness, “I’m happy I can coexist with Sirius now, that’s certainly not something I could have done back then.”

“But maybe it could be better?” 

No. “It’s not my priority,” Remus replied immediately, busying himself by pouring her more wine, but his cool exterior was betrayed by the heavy hand with which he set the bottle down on the table. Having a conversation with Sirius about their past relationship was at the absolute bottom of the list of things somebody could force him to do. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop now,” Marlene laughed, likely noticing now how the conversation was impacting Remus, and that frankly, he was done with it.

Remus smirked at her knowingly before responding, “You’re not going to do this when we’re living together,” he said definitively.

“No, no, I won’t. I said my piece. I gave it a shot and now I’m done,” she remarked, pressing her hand against her heart.

“Good,” Remus affirmed as he took his first bite of pizza. “Oh wow, this is amazing by the way,” he said with a moan as he swallowed, “Your pizza-choosing skill almost makes up for your snoopiness.” 

“Hey!” Marlene laughed. “Just think about it as my therapy, it helped me take the focus off my shitty life for a moment.” 

“Sure, I’m a humanitarian,” Remus responded dryly, causing Marlene to laugh harder now. And the wine they were both chugging through quickly probably helped too, he thought. “Where is John, by the way? I don’t want to be in his space when he gets home.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that. He’s working. He does tech stuff,” she offered.

“Tech stuff?” Remus laughed, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged as her eyes narrowed and she shook her head goofily, “I never really understand anything when he talks about work. So… tech stuff.” She waved her hand whimsically. “Computers. Apps. Free food all the time. Sometimes he brings me home hard-boiled eggs and cookies.”

“What a combo,” Remus commented.

“Yeah, I’ll miss it,” Marlene said with a sigh. “I’ll miss a lot of things.”

“You’ll just have to learn how to boil your own eggs now,” Remus consoled with exaggerated sympathy. Marlene barker a laugh, which made Remus smile.

“It’s not about the eggs!” she exclaimed as she threw a sliced olive at him. It didn’t quite make it to him, and he leaned down to pick it up off the floor, sending her a judgmental look about her poor aim, which made her laugh again.

He responded simply, “I know. But you’ll adjust, and you’ll become stronger for it.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose. “I hope so.”

“Time passes, you keep yourself busy, and it just happens,” Remus said with a shrug, “You’ve got so many people near you who love you and can keep you above water when you’re hurting, and you’ll be stronger and set up for something that’s the right fit for you. Something even greater.”

Marlene tipped her head to the side and smiled, a bit wistfully this time. “That applies to you too, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes again, a habitual response to that sort of comment, and brought the glass of wine back up to his lips. But there was a small voice, that one that he had blocked in the back of his mind for years, that fought its way through. Maybe there was a chance that Marlene could be right, maybe there was something greater ahead of him. But with a glimmer of hope like that always came a rush of the opposite for Remus right along with it. That was a part of life though, right? Numbing oneself to feeling sadness also numbs oneself to joy, and the list goes on. He pushed the polar opposite feelings back down — thinking he may try to unpack this later, but knowing himself, probably not — and changed the subject.


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday came quickly, bringing dress rehearsal right along with it, and Remus was more than ready. He was confident now. The anxiety characterizing the past week about Rach 3 was gone for the most part, but lo and behold, something else had gone and slid right into its place — not particularly surprising to Remus, who had begun to seriously wonder at this point if a part of him craved the chaos of perpetual, low-grade anxiety at every moment of his life. There always seemed to be something ready and available for his mind to clamp down and ruminate on unforgivingly. Great for driving discipline and self-awareness, two of Remus’ strengths, but not so great for one’s psyche in general.

The issue was that the evening he spent with Marlene, although an incredible bonding experience, had left him feeling raw. And he didn’t like it. He was glad to put his own lessons to good use in helping Marlene navigate her break-up, but at the same time, talking about it again gave him a strange sensation of feeling untethered. He didn’t know how else to describe it to himself, except that he felt a bit like he was 22 all over again.

Dull waves of rejection and a yearning for what he’d once had with Sirius, both of which he had thought he worked through years ago — that he truly believed had disappeared for the most part, save for the occasional expected flare-up now that he was back in New York — rose back to the surface and crashed against each other. The sensations felt strangely new again simply from talking to Marlene, putting him on edge since then, and he debated whether that conversation had been a good thing or a bad thing; probably both. 

It all wasn’t hurting him at the piano, though, thank God — in many respects, the tension under the surface was actually helping. He was channeling it all into his hands, and the piece was alive every time he played. As was typical, expressing his emotions through music helped to diffuse them, but only for a short time now, he observed, and they always amalgamated quickly again in that same dull hum prickling under his skin. But he just had to enjoy himself as much as he could through the performances, which wouldn’t be hard to do; and then he would be back in Cleveland a week later, far enough away for none of this to affect him for a while. 

Thursday evening rolled around quickly, too, and Remus’ nerves took hold, as they usually did before a debut. But he had mastered those nerves well over the years — in fact, he welcomed the jolt of nervous energy, the adrenaline. It gave him an edge. 

He arrived over an hour early, allowing himself a half hour of warm-up at the piano before the concert-goers would begin filing into the auditorium. The rest of the symphony arrived backstage by the time Remus finished, and he decided to go sit with them as they readied their instruments. He adjusted his fitted black button-up shirt and shed the sleek formal jacket until the performance was set to begin as he meandered over, draping it over his forearm.

His eyes landed on Sirius and Marlene who were warming up backstage too, but neither seemed to hear him approach from the left. He leaned against a pole and let his gaze wash over the strings — just for a moment — without judgment. 

Long black hair fell in a curtain across Sirius’ cheekbone, and the polished, dark amber wood of the violin cradled his chin. Remus had always thought those contrasting colors were beautiful. His eyes were shut, and there was a small divot etched between his eyebrows as he concentrated on his warm-up scales, his hand sliding impossibly high along the E string to the very end of the fingerboard before his fingers chased the strings back down in a rapid flurry of tight motion. Remus had always been sure Sirius could pull out pitches from the violin that no one else was capable of. He would eventually tie his hair back for the performance, and Remus had always thought that that was beautiful too.

Remus put a period at the end of that observation and promised to think only about the night ahead from there on out. This was the biggest performance of his career thus far, and he didn’t want to miss a single moment of it. The next twenty minutes flew by as he greeted the musicians, and before he knew it, they were leaving him to head onstage. It was just he and Minerva then. 

“The night is finally here,” she said, grasping his shoulder. His face peeled into a bright smile and he nodded slowly twice, and she continued after a moment, “I felt the shift at dress rehearsal. I knew you would get out of your head at some point,” she laughed, patting his shoulder. “This is going to be a performance for the books. See you out there.”

Minerva took a short breath in and out, likely her own version of steeling herself for the start of a show, then turned to walk onstage, leaving him a minute alone. He inhaled slowly, cracked his thumbs as he released the breath, and his mind was completely centered. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up. When he floated down the corridor to finally join the symphony, the soft concert hall lights greeted him first, and then the ensemble was met with a sea of applause.

The performance went by in a blur from the moment Minerva lifted her conductor’s baton, and Remus barely registered that there was an audience present for the next 42 minutes. All of the competing emotions worked in his favor as his hands and fingers took on a life of their own, the rest of his body merely a mechanism to move them precisely and fluidly along the keys. He both felt inexplicably one with and detached from the piano at the same time, almost like something sacred inside of him was the actor in this event and the rest of him was along for the ride. What came out was his own rendition of one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever written.

When his hands finally came to rest, the sound of his final notes resolved into silence, and the reverb of the instruments was replaced with a roar of applause from the audience. From his vantage point on stage and within the acoustics of the massive hall, the applause almost sounded like ocean waves crashing against rock. Remus breathed out a laugh, or maybe it was a cry, he wasn’t sure, as he met Minerva’s exultant expression right when she turned her head to him. But whatever it was, the sound was full of profound relief and a sort of emotional exhaustion. Bliss and emptiness at the same time. 

Remus and the rest of the symphony received a standing ovation from the audience as they took their bows, something that did happen often, but was always somehow a wonderful, humbling surprise that Remus had a hard time believing was happening. 

As soon as the curtain closed, he was embraced with hugs of congratulations from his fellow musicians. Even Minerva grabbed him by the shoulders again, gave him one of the more piercing looks he’d ever received in his life, and told him what an honor it was for her to work with him. Feeling overwhelmed by this point, he kept his responses short, very clearly needing some time to absorb it all. He slipped off his jacket, revealing the dampened shirt underneath, folded the sleeves up to his forearms, and took a seat off the stage to wind himself down away from the others.

After about fifteen minutes, the auditorium had cleared and Minerva addressed the group to congratulate them all on an exceptional first night. Remus moved back to the stage as she gave the woodwinds a minor critique, noted that she was looking forward to the next two performances, and then dismissed them for the evening. 

Remus made a beeline backstage, intent on grabbing his things and heading right home, but was halted as somebody gently caught him by the wrist. “Hey,” Sirius said with a light laugh as Remus whipped his head around, “don’t leave so fast.”

A beat passed. “Why not?”

“You were incredible tonight, Remus. This is a big deal,” Sirius said with a lopsided smile forming, a bit bemused, “You can’t just go  _ home _ .” 

Remus huffed a sound through his nose, some combination of appreciation for the compliment and indignation at being practically called a hermit by someone who couldn’t possibly be surprised by his proclivity toward turning in early. 

“What else would I do? You know I’m not one to go out and ‘celebrate’. And I’m totally drained,” Remus supplied while feeling inexplicably rooted to the spot. 

Sirius hummed, and his expression was clearly devoid of any surprise at all about that answer. “Well let me walk you back to your place then?” he requested, and Remus just blinked.

He drummed his fingers on the strap of his messenger bag. “Alright,” he shrugged, deciding that spending twenty minutes with Sirius couldn’t possibly do any lasting damage. It would be nice to hear how Sirius felt his own performance went too; he realized he hadn’t really had a full conversation with any of the musicians after the show.

“Great. Lead the way,” Sirius instructed as he pushed the exit door open and held it with his foot for Remus to walk through. Remus slipped past, and he only barely registered the scent of whatever Sirius had in his hair.

Sirius followed right behind, and as Remus turned in the direction of the apartment, Sirius fell into step alongside him. The night air against Remus’ chest was refreshingly frigid through the thin cloth of his damp dress shirt, and he found he appreciated the distraction. They’d walked quietly together for a little while, when Remus felt the other man glance over at him. 

“You really were incredible,” Sirius broke the silence.

Remus cracked a smile. “So I’ve come a long way since Rach 3 at Julliard then?”

Sirius scuffed the heel of an oxford against the concrete as he made an incredulous sound. “Well even back then I thought you were just genius,” Sirius offered sincerely, “But your sound is so much fuller now. All-encompassing. And that finale cadenza…” Sirius made a mindblown gesture with his hands. “Got chills even at dress.”

“Thanks,” he said through a sheepish laugh. “Your advice that day really helped me.”

“Glad it was useful,” Sirius supplied easily while he hiked the strap of his violin case further up his shoulder, as if it was all in a day’s work, and the only sound was their footsteps for a while. Remus set his mind to counting the number of traffic lights he could see in the distance —  _ one, two, three  _ — but he was distracted by Sirius pulling the tie out of his hair from his periphery, and he fought the urge to look over, trying to think of something to say instead to fill the silence. Sirius chimed in first. 

“It would be great to spend more time with you when you move back here,” he said in a measured voice, his similarly measured steps punctuating the message. “You know, after you’re settled in.”

Oh. “Oh?” Remus blurted. He opened his mouth again to speak, but his mind seemed to be two steps behind, so it was another second before he got anything else out. “What do you mean?” he asked eventually.

Sirius was still looking over at him, and he wished that he wasn’t. “Just that it would be great to reconnect,” he said without any hesitation, “I’m glad you’re moving back to New York.”

“Oh,” Remus repeated, mostly because he went from feeling relaxed to profoundly disconcerted in only a matter of seconds, and he didn’t know exactly why. “Sure, yeah,” Remus got out, but he could tell the tone of his voice told a different story as soon as it left him.

Sirius huffed a dark laugh from the back of his throat and raised his hand up placatingly in Remus’ direction. “I mean, no pressure, Remus,” Sirius said, and Remus was surprised to hear that he sounded a bit flustered — not a common look for him. Remus must have sped up his pace at some point, because when Sirius took hold of his wrist for the second time that evening, he almost tripped as he was pulled back to a fairly abrupt stop. 

Remus knew that his heart was probably thrumming loudly enough for Sirius to hear it through his chest if he concentrated hard enough. He bit at the inside of his lip as his eyes flickered past him to focus vaguely on the people walking on the other side of the street. By the look on his face when their eyes met again, Sirius seemed to catch onto Remus’ desire to be anywhere but there right now. 

“Hey, I —“ he started softly, then let out an exhale, closing his eyes tightly for a long second before opening them again. “I’ve just missed you, Remus,” he finished, watching Remus’ face carefully.

But although he returned that sentiment, of course he did, Remus heard himself scoff immediately in response, somehow triggered by so many aspects of that innocuous statement all at once that he wouldn’t have even known where to start. He used one hand to cover his eyes, his fingers and thumb pressing firmly against his temples.

Sirius beat him to the next word. “What? I’m not allowed to say that?” he asked.

“Preferably not,” Remus mumbled, pressing his fingers as hard as he could against his skin now, and focusing on the blackness behind his eyelids and the sound of people walking around the two men to get wherever they were going.

“You change the topic nearly every time I reference that we even know each other,” he said, exasperated, and Remus heard his hand come down against his hip. He reckoned he knew the exact look of challenge Sirius was giving him.

Remus dropped his hand from his face, and there it was. “It’s not fair for you to do what you’re doing right now,” Remus wanted to yell, but they were in public, and Sirius’ eyes were on him like that, and it just came out sounding more tired than anything else.

He saw Sirius’ jaw slacken slightly. “Me, not fair? Fucking hell, Remus,” Sirius remarked, but his tone was still soft, almost unbearably soft. “Can you just be  _ mad _ at me or something?” he continued, “You can yell at me, or tell me to fuck off, or whatever you need to do, you know? It’s better than having you act like we’re total strangers.”

“You’re forgetting that’s exactly what we are,” Remus observed without feeling.

Sirius shook his head minutely. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he called him out. “There’s a reason you can barely even look at me right now.”

Remus released a shallow breath, feeling some part of his resolve threatening to crack. “Not now, Sirius, please,” Remus insisted, enunciating every word as if in warning, “It’s just not something I want to get into right now.”

Sirius dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment, apparently weighing something in his head. “Okay,” Sirius finally agreed, before raising his eyebrows and ruthlessly zeroing in on him again. His eyes flashed like silver underwater when he asked, “So when?”

Fucking insufferable. “I don’t know!” Remus huffed, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. “I’ve come to peace with the idea of never hashing it out, years ago actually, Sirius,” he said, “We don’t  _ need _ to be in each other’s lives in any significant way.”

The movie theater sign behind them sent flashes of magenta light across Sirius’ face, and Remus could see the muscles of his jaw working as if he were debating whether to comment. 

“That makes no sense. It’s not like we were ever bad to each other, the timing was just shit then,” he huffed back, the side of himself incapable of leaving well enough alone clearly winning out, “Just unload it on me, Remus, I can take it. I know I deserve it for—“

“God you’re infuriating,” Remus cut in, now barely suppressing his anger at Sirius’ insinuation that “timing” had been the culprit for where they were now. “And you don’t get to dictate how I interact with you,” he snapped.

“I am not ‘dictating’ anything, Remus. But I do have to be the one to bring this up because I know that you never will,” Sirius corrected with gusto, apparently set on making Remus actually want to disappear into the floor.

“This is stupid,” Remus said, more to himself, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He barely registered the sound of a woman’s voice calling out just seconds before a toddler ran full speed across the sidewalk between them.

Sirius’ eyes followed the child with a look of amused surprise on his face, then darted back to Remus as the mother tossed over a hurried apology. “Why?” Sirius pressed, watching him again.

Remus ran another hand through his hair. “I doubt you’ve thought of me at all since I moved to Paris,” Remus’ voice burned his throat with the effort it took, but he also had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from saying anything more.

“You really wouldn’t know anything about it though, would you?” Sirius countered, but Remus could hear the unevenness in his voice, and it made his head spin even more than it already was, “Seeing as you dropped off the face of the planet and blocked me and anybody associated with me from communicating with you.”

“You broke up with me the day before I moved,” Remus heard himself reply, no need to beat around the bush, seeing as Sirius was quite present for it all, “so I did what I had to do to move on. Tell me how that is surprising?”

“It’s — it’s not, I just,“ Sirius started and stopped, and he eventually zeroed in again on Remus’ face, “It was mutual, I never thought we would stop being a part of each other’s lives completely. I had no idea you’d wanted that—“

“Oh my god,” Remus mumbled under his breath, wondering again how his night had taken such a turn. But fuck, here they were. “Of course I didn’t put up a fight, Sirius, I wasn’t going to try to convince you to stay with me when you didn’t want to — but where did you get ‘mutual’?” Remus said, and he couldn’t suppress the scoff that escaped his lips again. “And what did you think, then? That you could have the freedom you wanted while you kept my hope alive and made me miserable?”

Sirius’ expression was unreadable when he took a deep breath, concentrating somewhere near Remus’ shoulder for a moment, before looking back up. “Kept your h—?“, Sirius started as a question, a deep line between his brows forming as Remus watched him process the words in real-time. Then he raked a hand up the back of his neck before deciding to continue in a different direction, it seemed, “I just wanted to know that you were okay, you were moving to Paris on your own. I understand why you thought you needed to, but based on how you were that night, I didn’t expect you to vanish like that.”

Remus exhaled slowly to keep himself calm, reminding himself that Sirius had probably never put the amount of thought into this that Remus had. It had been so much simpler for Sirius. Less impactful. He had broken up with his boyfriend and was shocked when that meant losing one of his closest friends as well, thought that they could just check in from time to time like old college pals, so clearly, he had never really taken things to their logical conclusion. It just reaffirmed the imbalance in their feelings for each other back then, and Remus shook his head to himself. Remus realized that their perspectives on the situation were too different to reconcile, realized that there was no way he would have the patience to effectively communicate his perspective at that moment.

“Sure, Sirius,” Remus replied with a sort of resignation, looking off in the distance. Sirius must have sensed it, because his voice lowered as well and he took a small step forward. 

“Can you just… I don’t know, talk with me about it? When you’re ready?” he asked. The plea in Sirius’ voice softened him again, which bothered him even more in its own way.

Remus side-eyed the other man. “Alright,” he conceded vaguely.

“Thank you.” Sirius sighed, maybe in relief, and a light smile made its way back onto his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t bring this up again.” 

“Okay,” Remus offered because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Okay,” Sirius repeated before he began walking in the direction of Remus’ apartment again. He nodded to Remus to follow along, and once they’d taken a few paces in time with each other, he finally changed the subject. “So tell me,” he said quietly, and Remus internally braced himself, “what did you think of the finale of the Office?”

Remus blinked, and then he burst out laughing, which evolved quickly into a small coughing fit. “What?!” he exclaimed, recovering from the whiplash. “It was, what? Five years ago or something?”

“Six,” Sirius corrected immediately, looking at Remus with a brighter smile on his face now. “We used to watch it together every Tuesday night — we always got the nachos from that tiny taqueria on the corner, do you remember? Only had steak nachos on Tuesdays — but then we didn’t get to discuss the final season of course. I’ve been dying to know what you thought.”

“The whole season was really silly, wasn’t it? But the final episode was perfect,” Remus responded quickly, leaving out the fact that he had to wait about three years before he felt ready to watch it and that he would never forget the bright teal paint on the outside of that dingy little restaurant they chose so often for date night, “I mean, they brought Michael back but he didn’t overshadow everyone, Angela got kidnapped, and then that whole line about wishing you could know when you were in the ‘good old days’ was beautiful. I may have cried.”

“James did,” Sirius said, nodding vehemently, “Quite a lot. Think one could best describe it as weeping uncontrollably, really, it was just a huge awful scene.”

“Well, Lily is his Pam,” Remus offered wistfully, able to imagine that scene with crystal clarity, “He’s been sure of that from the beginning.”

“That was exactly it,” Sirius agreed, and Remus figured that since they had switched to small talk, he could ask a question that had been burning in his own mind.

“So I have to know,” Remus said pointedly, “When the hell did you get into baseball?” 

Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, right,” Sirius said and paused for a moment, slipping his hands into his back pockets, before he offered, “I guess around when I joined the Philharmonic.” 

Remus tipped his head and gave him a look. “So four years of you mocking me for following the Indians and then suddenly you join the symphony and you’re a fan? That’s obnoxious,” Remus deadpanned, trying to keep his smile from expanding and ruining the effect of the sarcasm. 

Sirius huffed some unconvinced sound. “They have a fantasy league,” he volleyed back as if his reasoning were obvious, “You never offered me competition. You just put it on TV and it was such an unbearable bore.” 

“Baseball itself a competition!” Remus exclaimed, eyebrows hiking to the top of his forehead as if challenging Sirius to object to this fact.

Sirius shrugged noncommittally and made another stream of sounds akin to gibberish. “Yeah, okay,” he argued, but I had no bloody incentive! It’s so much more fun when I have the opportunity to win eternal glory and bragging rights.”

“Of course,” Remus said and shook his head judgmentally, as if it was all clear now. “It wasn’t enough that I was interested in it,” Remus pointed out with humor, but of course it was disguising a hint of resentment as well.

Sirius started, raising a hand to his heart in his best show of authenticity, “Now I hear you on that, Remus, I do. And you’re right about it, of course you are. You’re  _ always _ right—“

“Oh shove it,” Remus cut in, lips twisting to hold in the smile.

“ _ But _ if you are going to bring that up can we please also talk about the time that you had that brief but  _ tremendous _ love affair with Bon Iver?” Sirius asked, raising his pointer finger in the air as he stepped in front of Remus, then began walking backwards in time with him. “And you played the same song over and over in the apartment?”

Remus’ face rearranged into a bemused expression. “What do you mean?” Remus asked Sirius’ head that was bobbing in front of him, confused about why this had come up. “You loved that song just as much as I did!”

A guilty smile grew on Sirius’ face before he widened his eyes with a look that Remus could immediately read for the admission that it was.

“Oh my god,” Remus’ jaw dropped in disbelief for a couple of seconds before it sunk in and he burst into laughter, “I had no idea! I thought you loved it too! That’s why I played it so often.”

“It was, and I do not say this lightly,  _ torture.  _ The same falsetto incoherent mumbling over and over and over… and over again? Stab me in the eye, right? But you were just so happy whenever you played it,” he explained, adopting the level of theatrics he always expected when Sirius was complaining about something. “So you know what, I said that I loved the blasted song too, and I kept up the charade for as long as I could until you finally got tired of it,” he added, then fell into step beside Remus again.

“Oh my god,” Remus repeated as he shook with silent laughter, his eyes wide. “You even got us tickets for his concert.” 

“Yeah, and you were in heaven,” Sirius bragged with a half-smile, and Remus couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

They both settled into silence, and Remus was grateful for the short respite. Eventually, Sirius took in a sharp intake of breath and spoke again.

“What about Thor: Ragnarok?” he asked. 

“Haven’t seen it,” Remus answered.

“What?!” Sirius literally shouted, startling two women who were walking past them right then.

“Stopped watching superhero movies when nobody was forcing them on me,” Remus elaborated in a pensive tone, “Funny how that works.”

“Oh no, no, no... This is unacceptable. Is it worse than when you told me you had never eaten Indian food before?” Sirius asked himself before shuddering and quickly delivering an answer, “Fuck, who could possibly decide what’s worse? They are both egregious.”

Remus shoulder checked him as he defended himself, “Again with this? It wasn’t  _ that  _ weird, you know my mom always cooked to save money so we never went out to eat—"

But Sirius continued over him, throwing his head back with an overzealous groan that could be heard over Remus’ snort, “I feel like we are starting from square one all over again. What are we going to do with you?” He shook his head smugly and locked eyes with Remus again.

Remus brought his hand up to rub at his jaw, laughing softly from behind his hand at how surreal it all was, the way they were interacting. Sirius had broken through some of the barrier between them, and there was a lightness that took its place. Remus wondered whether Sirius realized that the dynamic was eerily similar to freshman year when they were just getting to know each other. 

And it felt good. 

No, it felt wonderful, if he was being honest. 

And it would be so easy to just fall right back into it with Sirius — the banter, the teasing, the lingering glances — it came so naturally to them. But then again, with the mess inside Remus’ head, it wouldn’t be easy at all to fall back into anything fully, and if he let himself do it anyway, he knew it wouldn’t lead to anywhere good for him.

In that moment, the scale of his emotions tipped, and a low thrum of something like anger trumped everything else. He looked away from Sirius and hooked his thumb around the strap of his messenger bag. In fact, how quickly he had gotten wrapped up in Sirius in just this short interaction only spurred the frustration on — but not outwardly, that wasn’t fair to Sirius just then. The fact that Remus could become so affected by basic flirting that he might overlook the absolute misery he had felt because of the same person was ludicrous, and whatever frustration he felt toward Sirius extended to himself too. 

Remus felt the same familiar, warm glow that he had always experienced when Sirius put his attention on him, and he also couldn’t help but wonder how many others might have been the focus of that charm too. 

“Rem?”

His thoughts were interrupted, and he realized that he must have been quiet for a while. “Sorry, you looked deep in thought, didn’t want to interrupt,” Sirius said, spinning his hand vaguely toward the next block ahead, “but I think your place is around here?”

“Oh, sorry,” Remus said and looked on, “Yeah you’re right, it’s just a couple buildings further.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius said, “And think all you need to. No rush.”

And there was another thing about Sirius. His personality was practically the polar opposite of Remus’, yet somehow, he had always been able to read him like a book. It made things smooth back then — communication had never been a big issue — but his ability to detect Remus’ state was unsettling now and made him feel exposed.

“Since when did you learn patience?” Remus challenged, deciding that responding with humor was the safest bet. 

“Since I worked on being less of a prat,” Sirius answered, far more sincerely than Remus had expected, before he stopped in front of the brick apartment building. 

Remus stopped too, clearing his throat in hopes that it would buy him an extra nanosecond to figure out a response, but nothing came to mind. They both stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before Sirius rescued him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep,” Remus supplied quickly. “And thanks again for setting things up with Marlene. I’m so lucky it all worked out.”

Sirius clicked his tongue. “No problem,” he said with a smile and leaned back on his heels, “Trust me, I was happy to help.” 

Remus nodded, and then it hit him that he should probably go inside now. “Well, goodnight,” he offered as he angled his body toward the building to his left.

“Goodnight, Rem,” Sirius said simply before turning in the direction of the nearest train station. Remus wondered for a moment whether he still lived in Brooklyn.

Remus keyed into the building and blew out a gust of air as soon as he was inside, feeling more and more lucid with every step that he imagined Sirius was taking further and further away from him. He loped up the stairs and made his way through the apartment door and shrugged off his bag, enjoying the relief that immediately washed over him as he quickly shed his suit, mussed up his hair, and flopped onto the bed in a heap of limbs.

As the minutes ticked by and Sirius’ effect on him progressively wore off, his system fell into ease, which allowed him to finally soak in the satisfaction of a successful first performance of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto. 

A massive smile plastered itself onto his face and he stretched his arms overhead, feeling happier than he had in a very long time. His state of dress — naked except for the pair of boxer briefs he was wearing, his hair wild — matched exactly how he felt. Free, and open, and honest. Purely and undeniably himself. After tonight, he could now say that the people who heard him play had gotten a true glimpse into his soul. Remus had always tried to infuse his spirit into his performances, but never more than an afterthought to the technique. And that was what he had always been praised for, technique. 

But Remus had put himself into the performance that night in a way he never had before. He worked with the music as a tool to communicate something deeper, his own emotional and energetic signature, out into the world. His hands were moved by something more — the excitement of moving back to New York for good, fear surrounding his mother’s health, uncertainty about his future, the surrealness of performing alongside the ex-boyfriend who had broken his heart years ago. His life was more overwhelming than it had ever been, and somehow the tension fueled him to play the best he ever had. He could confidently say that he had never felt so high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to Vladmir Horowitz performing Rach 3 with the New York Philharmonic in 1978: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5mxU_7BTRA
> 
> Horowitz was 75 when he performed in that video, which just adds to how incredible of a pianist he was. Like what a freaking beast of a man, right? Right. Rachmaninoff also said that Horowitz was the best interpreter of his works and could play them even better than he could. Pretty cool. 
> 
> (One day I will have the patience to figure out why some links I post on AO3 work and why others don't, but today is not that day. I can only take so much of it before I completely lose my mind. Sorry!)


	9. Chapter 9

The week following the final performance brought with it a slew of errands and meetings. True to form, Remus was packing as much productive energy as he could into the days before Thanksgiving and as his trip home to Cleveland neared.

Most of his newly free time was a combination of reconnecting with music directors along the east coast and planning out the logistics for his upcoming move-in, given that he didn’t bring much of anything in the way of furnishings from Europe. Meeting with Andrew again on Tuesday night gave him a more exciting break from what could have been a mundane week, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the other man taking the initiative to reach out to him again, particularly because he never would have himself. It was usually ‘out of sight, out of mind’ for Remus when it came to these things, but they had an easy connection, with enough chemistry to make their time together satisfying — even fun.

The calmness of the final few days before the holiday struck felt odd, truth be told. He always found it a little difficult to settle into relaxation mode, almost bored with nothing substantial to put his energy into. But the week passed quickly, and before he knew it, he was knocking at the Potters’ door on Thanksgiving day.

“Remus,” Lily sang brightly when she opened the door. “Oh, you look so wonderful,” she commented as her eyes scanned him up and down before pulling him in for a hug.

Remus believed her, he probably did look a whole lot better than when they had seen each other last. After the first performance, a huge weight had been lifted and he swore that the next two flew by in the blink of an eye. When they wrapped up the final note of the last show, the surreal feeling set in with full force — he was the featured pianist with the world-renowned New York Philharmonic, playing Rachmaninoff’s’s Third to a triple standing ovation. His US debut couldn’t have gone any better. Minerva was right that this was going to be a catalyst for his career in the States, and he felt such immense gratitude to her for taking the initiative to bring him here. He was sure the whole experience had lightened his entire demeanor in a way that was probably apparent physically.

“You’re one to talk,” Remus laughed as she squeezed him tighter. She released him eventually and accepted the bottle of wine in his hand, and he was pretty certain she looked even more beautiful now than at 21, in a dark pair of jeans with a simple black sweater.

“Thanks for having me over,” he started as he placed his coat on the hook beside the door and followed her inside, “I probably would have just shut myself in my apartment and ordered takeout if you guys hadn’t invited me.”

“You wouldn’t have just gone home earlier?” she asked as they entered the kitchen. James was hunched over the stove, clearly more focused than Remus had ever seen him, because instead of his usual grandiose greeting, he merely lifted a hand to acknowledge Remus’ arrival. It was almost a let-down actually, as Remus had been half-expecting James to jump out of the pantry and scare the shit out of him instead.

“Nah, I needed to get some downtime before heading to Cleveland,” Remus answered, walking over to James and simply patting his head in greeting while he concentrated on poking the turkey with an instant-read thermometer. “You know, just a few days to decompress and get things done around the city to prepare for my move. Then when I do fly into Cleveland, I can put all of my focus into just being with them.”

“Oh?” Lily asked as she set the bottle down, “What did you need to get done around here?”

“Oh, piano stuff mostly. I spoke to a couple of instructors from Julliard to secure a practice space there and asked them to keep me in mind if a teaching position opens up in the future,” he answered, leaning his hip against the counter, “Also chatted with Minerva, the conductor of the Philharmonic, about that too, and she seems really happy to help, so I’m optimistic. She has contacts at conservatories around the city.”

“Oh, well that’s great news, isn’t it?” Lily offered, “Do you think you’ll play with the Philharmonic again?”

“She actually alluded to another collaboration next year,” Remus said, unable to suppress the smile that formed on his face as he spoke. It was probably the best suggestion Remus had ever heard after bonding with the symphony so deeply.

“Ah! I’m so happy for you!” Lily grinned widely as she held his eye contact. “And I’m even happier for me because now you’re going to be around for good!”

Remus laughed and nodded in response. “I am really happy that we are back in each others’ lives too,” he said, and added, his voice louder now, “You were always my favorite of them by far.”

Lily reached out to give Remus’ wrist a loving squeeze while James huffed an injured sound into the stovetop he was attending to. “Is your mom doing alright?” she asked softly as she turned to the refrigerator.

“Lily, can I help with anything?” Remus interjected instead of responding to the question he had actually been asked. He could never allow somebody else to do work without at least offering a hand.

“Absolutely not, you’re the guest and you need to sit your ass down on a barstool and just talk to me,” Lily demanded, shutting the refrigerator door with a bunch of produce in her hand as James came out of his focus for a moment to throw in an uncharacteristically intimidating, “Sit down, Remus!”

Remus did as requested, settling onto the center barstool in front of the island. “She’s doing alright. I finally pulled it out of them that she’s getting surgery about ten days after I get home. They didn’t want to tell me until I got there, but I could sense something was up.” He had known intellectually for a long time that coming back to the US was the right move, but when he took his final bow with Minerva and the orchestra at his side, it had hit him in a new way. He would get so much of what he wanted in his career in New York. And more importantly, he would be closer to his parents, who were so important to him — had sacrificed so much for him — and were only getting older.

Lily nodded gently. “It’s breast cancer?” she asked in clarification as she began to julienne a carrot. “James and I couldn’t remember… You didn’t talk about it very much in college.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, leaning his forearms on the countertop and watching her work, “She was in the clear for about eight years, but they found something on her last scan.”

“Did they catch it early?” she asked, brow furrowed as she grabbed for another carrot and set it on the cutting board.

“I think so, but I really don’t know that much about what’s going on,” Remus admitted with a hint of frustration coming through. Lily continued looking at him and set the knife down, pausing her task to regard Remus with her full attention. “I know I’m not getting the full story, and it’s hard to drag it out of them over the phone. I understand that they didn’t want to distract me from the performances, they knew how big of a deal it was to me, but it’s my mom. I should know everything,” he explained. “And of course my brain comes up with the worst case scenarios — is the prognosis bad? What if she only has a couple of months to live? I’m kind of angry at them about it. But I can’t be, you know? Because she’s the one who is sick.”

Lily sighed and nodded. “I’m sure they would have told you if it was that kind of news, but I get why it’s driving you crazy,” she offered. “Keep us updated, though. James and I can’t totally understand what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean you should have to handle it by yourself, yeah?”

Remus nodded and set to reply before a new voice flowed into the kitchen. “Remus is here?”

He jumped a little, not realizing that Sirius had been in the house the entire time. Remus looked over to see him padding over barefoot, a hand messing with wet hair.

“Hey,” Remus pushed his face into a smile too and turned to Sirius as he took a seat at the barstool next to him. “Just going to be the four of us?”

“Nope,” Sirius replied with a pop as he reached his hand out to grab a slice of carrot, but was slapped away by Lily before even reaching the cutting board. “I invited Benjy because he couldn’t afford to fly home this year, spent his extra money booking a trip to Eastern Asia after the Christmas concert.”

“And my work spouse is coming,” James announced as he stood up from closing the oven. He tossed his oven mitts onto the counter and flashed each person in the room a sultry look one-by-one.

Sirius leaned over to Remus, mouth quirked to one side. “His work spouse’s name is Peter.”

“Scandalous,” Remus replied as he felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “A gay love affair. Never would have pegged you as the type to branch out, though.”

“You can’t box James Potter in,” James started smoothly as the smell of roasted sweet potatoes started to fill the kitchen now, “Lily is a dream, but she just can’t fulfill all of my needs.”

“It’s true,” Lily hummed without looking up, putting a cucumber on the cutting board next and peeling off the sticker with her nail, “But it’s fine, I’ve accepted it. I’ll never be the one staying at the office until 4am during busy season eating bad takeout with him. And I’ll certainly never be the one to help him with his blog.”

Remus watched the banter from where he was sitting, utterly relaxed, with his chin resting in his palm. He swiveled his head to look at Sirius when he made a sound of agreement from his left. “You’re truly a wonderful wife, Lils,” Sirius complimented as Lily shimmied her shoulders in appreciation, before adding, “almost - _almost_ \- good enough for James.”

Lily snorted, darted for one of the abandoned oven mitts, and bopped Sirius on the side of the head with it before he had time to dodge her fully. Sirius leaned back out of Remus’ space when Lily was no longer a threat, leaving drip marks on the front of Remus’ shirt, and James bellowed out a loud “Thank you!” from deeper in the kitchen.

“Mmmkay, James, time to open up the wine I think?” Lily suggested as she went back to chopping up veggies for the salad, “Remus brought a red.” For what it was worth, Remus agreed internally with her suggestion.

“Yep,” James said with a clap as he looked around at the dishes and then came to reach around her, “Everything else is ready to go.”

Remus ran the pad of this thumb along a strip of grout between the counter tiles and deadpanned, “Well it smells terrible.”

“Get out,” James ordered and pointed towards the front door with the wine opener.

“Yeah, get out Remus,” Lily chided evenly, “Sirius is allowed to insult his wife but how dare you insult his cooking.”

“Well, I’d just like to point out,” Sirius drawled, “that Sirius has been a loyal and supportive friend to James for the last seven years. Remus, on the other hand?” He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Oh, _burn_ ,” James said, a gleaming smile coloring his face as he looked between Sirius and Remus and began pouring wine into the four glasses. “How does it feel, Remus?”

“Oh my god,” Remus grumbled as he reached for the glass that James was now holding out to him, not even lifting his chin from his palm. “I feel like I’m—“

“In college again?” Lily interjected, looking up at him as and ignoring the others pointedly like he was the only person in the room, “Yeah, don’t worry, Rem, nothing has changed. You really didn’t miss much.”

“Lily!” James responded, his tone laced with something resembling a warning, “He’s not off the hook yet.”

“Not for another seven years, at least,” Sirius said, “It’s only fair. And there will have to be a lot of groveling.” He turned to Remus and added with a look that suggested he was breaking tough news, “I wouldn't say that James is an unforgiving man, exactly, but he’s been known to play hard to get.”

“You’re all a fucking riot. Hysterical, really,” Remus shook his head and felt his eyes roll as he took his first drink of the wine.

“You see that, James?!” Sirius pointed directly at Remus and Remus’ eyes widened in confusion from behind his glass. “First eyeroll of the night and he’s only been here for what? Fifteen bloody minutes?” he observed. Remus huffed while James simultaneously burst out into laughter, and admittedly, he had to actively suppress his second eyeroll of the night.

“Ah, of course!” James announced as Sirius mouthed ‘sorry’ to Remus while shaking silently. Remus just closed his eyes and bit his top lip to keep his smile in check, wondering by what evil magic he had been transported right back to his undergrad days. “Sirius says something silly and his eyes go to the back of his head. Classic Remus.” Then they high fived, and it was all too much.

“James, go be useful and take the plates out,” Lily said, pushing his shoulder to shoo him away. “I’d prefer it if we don’t abuse one of the best pianists in the world while he’s a guest in our home.”

“Oh please, he loves the attention, don’t you, Remus?” James said into the cupboard as he reached for a stack of plates.

He was cut off from answering James’ question with what would have been a resounding “Hell no” if James hadn’t continued with, “Your show on Friday night was bonkers by the way.”

“Oh right!” Remus’ smile brightened and he added, “I was so caught up in it all that I forgot that you two were there. Thanks for coming.”

“It was amazing,” Lily affirmed with an awestruck voice as she chopped. “I honestly have no idea how I’m friends with such talented people. My mind can’t even fathom how you can do something _that_ well.”

“We’re just people, Lils.” Sirius started pompously and acted very interested in his nail beds. “We get up every morning just like everybody else. No need to fawn over us, we’re not animals in a zoo.”

“Yeah yeah,” Lily laughed, but their conversation was cut short when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get that,” Sirius proposed as he slipped off the stool and walked towards the door, and James and Lily moved quickly to start setting the table in the dining room just off the kitchen. Remus, feeling lost without something useful to do, stood up to grab a couple more wine glasses and brought them out to the table too. A few seconds later, Sirius reemerged in the kitchen with Benjy alongside him.

Barely two minutes after Benjy’s arrival, the doorbell rang again, and Remus was introduced to Peter. James’ ‘work husband’ must have heard a lot about Remus because he immediately embraced him, seemingly unbothered by how rigid Remus’ body became at the unexpected contact. Remus certainly wasn’t going to be rude, though, so he allowed the shorter blonde stranger to hug him. He narrowed his eyes when he caught sight of Sirius, who was barely suppressing his amusement at that scene.

“Pete!” Sirius greeted him a moment later with laughter in his voice, and Remus was grateful for the rescue when he was finally released from Peter’s arms. “I haven’t seen you in forever, mate.”

“Right, the life of a consultant, no time for anything,” Peter sighed, now turning his affection on Sirius, who was always better at managing that sort of thing. “I’ll never get a girlfriend,” he complained as Sirius made a sympathetic cooing sound and patted him on the back.

“Oh I don’t want to hear any of that, Peter,” Lily remarked as she grabbed a couple of small dishes chilling in the refrigerator. “When I set you up with Beth you guys went to dinner and then you never called her back. You’re done.”

“She was weird though,” Peter said as if that explained everything, then moved towards the second bottle of wine Remus had just opened. “Wouldn’t shut up about something called Kundalini yoga,” he added quizzically as he filled the glass Remus held out for him.

“Might be time to broaden your horizons, Pete, expand your mind,” Sirius offered. “Yoga probably would’ve been good for you since you obsess over numbers in a cubicle all day. What if Benjy had been afraid of something unconventional? He never would have taken up the flute and the world would be a much darker place.” He and Benjy exchanged a knowing nod and they both looked back at Peter at the same time with identical expressions, and Remus had to hide his mouth behind his hand.

Peter let go a loud exhale and looked as if he were deep in contemplation now. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, before he abruptly glanced back at Sirius and straightened up. “Hold on, isn’t Marlene single now?”

“No,” Sirius responded firmly, at the same time that James chimed in unhelpfully with the opposite response from where he was carving the turkey. “I mean, yes. But no, mate. Absolutely not, never ever going to happen.”

“Yeah, sorry Pete,” Lily concluded as she moved to sit down at the table, “No more mooching dates of off our friend group. You blew it.” Then she called over her shoulder, “Babe? Everything ready to go?”

“Yes, my cranberry,” James answered as he walked out with a massive platter of turkey.

Lily pulled Remus into the chair next to her and the rest of the table filled in quickly, with Sirius grabbing the seat on his other side and Benjy taking the one across from him. They fell into easy conversation as they piled their plates full of food that looked and smelled positively divine, and the deja vu was almost overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Benjy,” Remus started in an attempt to steer the conversation towards more neutral territory, particularly for James, Peter, and Lily, who had just gallantly sat through a debate about Phillip Glass as a composer. “When are you heading to Asia? And where are you flying into first?”

“The day after our final performance of the Christmas concert, which is the 18th I think?” Benjy offered, “And I’m flying into Vietnam first. The rest of the itinerary isn’t totally set though, I just know that I want to end up in Thailand eventually.”

“Are you bringing your flute with you?” James asked a little too soon after taking a large bite of mashed potatoes.

“Fuck no,” Benjy responded quickly, as if the question had burned him. “This is the time of year I don’t even touch it. It’s freeing and further fosters my creative spirit.” Remus laughed at his response and the look of confusion on James’ face, as if he simply couldn’t fathom why somebody would want to take time away from their job for a couple of weeks out of the year. “What’s everyone else doing until New Years?” Benjy asked before taking a bite of stuffing.

“Headed to my parents’,” Peter answered first, grabbing a roll from the basket, “They live just a couple hours north.”

“Really?” Remus asked. “And you didn’t want to go there for Thanksgiving too?”

“They wanted me to,” Peter offered with a shrug, “but no, I like it better here with James.”

“That’s what happens after you get married, Remus,” Sirius started thoughtfully like he were explaining some complex topic, “Your spouse becomes your real family, don’t you know?”

Remus laughed, but not too much in case Peter was being serious. “Noted,” he responded, then nodded at Sirius and asked, “What about you? Are you staying around here after the Christmas concert?”

“Nope. Heading to California with James and Lily again.”

“Oh right, of course.” Remus was surprised this hadn’t been obvious to him. Sirius had usually opted to visit James’ parents in California whenever he had the chance, even if it had meant passing up on spending more time with Remus during their days out of school. Although it didn’t feel especially good at the time, Remus had understood that the Potters offered him the family stability that Sirius had always yearned for.

“Yep, tenth year in a row now,” Sirius answered before James chimed in to say it was pretty much expected at this point. “We leave on the 22nd and will be back before New Years. So not too long of a trip.”

“We’re going wine tasting this year,” Lily added as she wiggled her eyebrows with excitement. “We say it’s gonna happen every year, but it never does, everybody else gets distracted. But I went ahead and made the reservations, so _it is happening_.”

“What do you all usually do there, then?” Benjy asked, “Must be a lot of cool stuff going on if you guys get distracted from winery adventures in Napa.”

“Super cool stuff,” James confirmed immediately before Lily cut him off.

“No, these two are the worst,” she said, jerking her head between James and Sirius, “They just get into James’ old gaming console and play FIFA for a week straight, and I’m left alone with James’ parents. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love my in-laws, they are the best. But since I have a husband who rarely takes a day off of work, spending some time with him would be nice.”

Remus could not suppress the bark of laughter that burst from his chest in response to this information, just as Sirius and James shot each other sheepish looks of guilt. When Lily looked over at him, he shook his head and said, “Sorry Lils, it’s just all way too familiar.”

“Oh, Sirius,” Benjy started, setting his hand down on the table as if he had just remembered something, “I swear I saw Liam yesterday leaving Whole Foods. Doesn’t he ride a blue motorcycle?”

“That he does, Benjy,” Sirius replied, “and he would be shopping at Whole Foods, too.”

“I knew it, I am so good,” Benjy complimented himself, “I’m glad we never ran into each other so I didn’t have to defend myself about all the animal products I was buying.”

“Christ, that was a dark time for me,” James cut in, and before Remus had to wonder what they were talking about any longer, Benjy volleyed back.

“Sirius’ vegan phase was a dark time for all of us,” he agreed, lifting a bite of turkey to his mouth.

“Including me, let's be real,” Sirius dropped in, going for the pitcher of water, “And giving up steak was far from the most unpleasant aspect of that whole… thing. Glad it’s behind us all for good.”

“Oh yeah, for good this time? Not going to get back together again?” Benjy asked curiously, and when Sirius shook his head with a grimace, he added, “Aw, and he tried so hard to understand your music, too, the poor sap. I remember the last show he came to — what was it, like, last fall? — he was asking Marlene all kinds of dumb questions and begged us not to tell you.”

Remus realized he had been quiet a little too long, so he chimed in, “Like what the difference between a violin and a viola is?”, causing James to do a double-take.

“I mean, he was certainly a bit daft, but not that daft, I would wager,” Sirius offered tentatively from behind his water glass, eyes moving from Remus to linger on James.

“Okay I think we’re quite done here,” James tossed in as Lily sat back in her chair with a cackle, “I know the difference, I just… forget sometimes, okay, they all blend together!”

Benjy chimed in again pleasantly, swirling his wine glass, “Well please educate us now, Ja—“

“PASS!” James interrupted, sitting up straight as a board, eliciting more laughter from around the table, “the bread basket please, would you, Pete?”

The rest of their meal together passed easily, and it was evident that Remus and all the others were having a good time based on the amount of wine they were putting away. He wasn’t one to drink this freely in normal settings, but he felt so comfortable around this group that he didn’t even think about it.

At the end of his third glass, Peter was telling a story about the time he had strategically burnt a bag of popcorn in the microwave and then pinned the repulsive smell that filled the entire office on James, so now James was henceforth known as the Popcorn Idiot within the department. Remus found that name so stupidly incredible that he officially became a Peter fan right then and there, and he even decided he had implicit permission to hug him going forward.

After stuffing themselves on pumpkin pie, they stayed at the table talking until around nine o’clock when Benjy announced ruefully that he had to go. When Lily and James walked Benjy to the front door, Remus took that opportunity to sneak into the kitchen to start cleaning the pile of dishes that had accumulated over the course of the night, leaving the other two at the table to continue their conversation — which Peter had somehow brought back to Marlene.

He made it through 2.5 dishes before he heard Lily’s voice float in. “Remus,” Lily chided, walking up to grab the dish from his hand and hip-bump him out of the way. “Get out of here. That’s our job. All three of you go out into the living room and pick out a movie or something.”

Remus rolled his eyes again, which James acknowledged gleefully, before he dried his hands off and made his way into the living room. He sprawled out on the couch and pulled out his phone, taking a moment to respond to some texts from his parents and his best friend Amelia from Cleveland.

“Are you having fun tonight?” Sirius’ voice interrupted his typing, and Remus instinctually shifted his body into the corner of the couch to make more room. He sat down on the opposite end and reached out to offer Remus a newly refilled glass of wine, holding his own in the other.

“It’s been great,” Remus answered sincerely as he took the glass. Was it his fourth now? Or his fifth? Sixth? He couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter. “Where’s Peter?” he asked, moving to rest his elbow on the back of the couch and his cheek against his fist.

“Keeping James and Lily company while they work,” Sirius answered, “It’s apparently even harder to separate him from James than it is to separate me from James.”

“I don’t believe it,” Remus commented, shifting his focus to take a drink before looking ahead again at Sirius. “So are you excited to start rehearsals for the Christmas concert?”

“No.” Sirius laughed as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and shimmied back into the couch more comfortably. “Same damn carols every year, it’s mind-numbing,” he quipped, and Remus thought his posh accent in this context was particularly amusing, “and if you thought I complained about having to play lullabies back then, I’ve even less patience now…”

“But it’s Christmas,” Remus’ voice arced melodically and he put on a goofy smile, “The most _magical_ time of the year, you scrooge.”

“Even ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ lost its luster after year two, Remus, trust me,” Sirius said with a smirk, tucking his arm across his body and resting the stem of the glass on his thigh with his other hand. “Although now that you say that,” he added, and he tipped his head to the side in thought, “I wouldn’t say no to a Scrooged tribute show. I’ll get Minerva onboard for something a little different for the Philharmonic this year.”

“Sign me up as Lou Hayward when you select the casting, will you,” Remus requested, and Sirius huffed as if that was a given. He smiled and rubbed at a water spot on the side of his glass. “Do you ever think about leaving the Philharmonic?” he asked.

Sirius had just taken a drink, humming as he returned the glass to its resting place. “Not yet,” he turned his head to the side so that he fully faced Remus again, “I love the group. And I like having stability — apparently it’s good for me. So I’m not ready to give that up yet.”

“Yeah, that’s good. I mean, you seem good. Happy,” Remus expressed. It was easier like this with Sirius, when alcohol dissolved the mental barrier that made it difficult for him to communicate normally with the other man. Easier to be in the moment. He closed his eyes and took another drink, letting the rich flavor of the wine sit on his tongue before leaning the side of his head against the couch and swallowing. When he opened his eyes again, Sirius was looking straight at him, and Remus found that he didn’t even mind.

“What is going on with Hope?” Sirius asked softly after what felt like a minute had passed.

“What?” Remus asked, a step behind.

“Sorry, I overheard the end of your conversation in the kitchen earlier,” Sirius said, although he didn’t look sorry, “before Benjy and Peter got here. Is she okay?”

“James never mentioned anything?” Remus asked, and the way that Sirius knit his eyebrows together in confusion let Remus know that James actually could keep a secret when asked. “Her cancer’s back,” he continued candidly, “I don’t know much about it yet, but she’s having a double mastectomy soon after I get home.”

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked, eyebrows knitting more deeply.

Remus felt himself shrug. “I don’t know. They barely tell me anything,” he said, “I feel like I’m going nuts trying not to think about it until I get there and can pull more information out of them.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius responded. He wrinkled his nose for a brief moment before adding, “I’m sorry, Remus. That’s really hard.”

“It fucking sucks,” Remus laughed, and Sirius did too, probably at the honesty of it all. He kept his gaze trained on Remus expectantly, so he continued. “It’s the big reason I decided to move back to the US. I refuse to be that far away from them any longer. It frustrates me so much that they try to sugarcoat things like this with me,” Remus explained, and Sirius nodded in acknowledgment, probably because he knew about this dynamic with Remus’ parents already. “My mom was too ill to fly out to New York for the performance, but according to them, she’s doing ‘ _just fine, really Remus, we would let you know if something was really bad_.’” Remus let out a huff of frustration before continuing further, “It’s driving me crazy, but I also know they’re only doing that because they’re scared and want to protect me until they know more too. So I can’t be frustrated.”

Sirius nodded, but stayed stone-still otherwise. “But you can be frustrated, though. It’s expected that a person would be. There are a lot of unknowns and you love your mom,” he said simply.

Remus hummed, feeling both better and worse with that viewpoint, like he always did when people encouraged him to do things like feel his feelings. In life, he preferred to zoom past that to just solve the root of the problem and move on. “Yeah,” he offered and took another drink of wine. Sirius’ eyes were looking at a point somewhere past Remus’ collarbone when he glanced over at him again. “So you’re kind of a Thanksgiving pro now, huh?” he asked, not knowing what else to say about his mom.

Sirius’ eyes came back to his face. “Am I?” he asked genuinely.

Remus nodded. “When we were at the table, I just kept remembering how excited you were when you experienced your first one. Sophomore year, right? The summer after you met James?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Sirius mused, and his eyes sparkled in recollection, “Yes, and you and James put together that miniature Thanksgiving ‘feast’ and were so proud of yourselves.”

“Hey,” Remus laughed as he pushed against Sirius’ shoulder, “We learned how to cook for you! I bought a crockpot! All so you could experience a quintessential American holiday. And if I recall correctly, which I do, you loved it.”

Sirius nodded vigorously. “Yeah, your stunning green bean casserole is what sealed the deal,” he complimented, and continued a beat later, “and then the next year, Lily came along and James’ parents flew in and organized a _real_ Thanksgiving, and I was really sold. I mean, who could possibly be homesick when you have pumpkin pie and stuffing?”

Remus’ fingers drummed against the stem of his glass and made a bright sound. “That’s right,” Remus recalled, his voice probably giving away the pang of annoyance that he felt. “If I ever really wanted to convince you of something, I just needed to get the Potters involved.”

Sirius hummed, and Remus knew by his narrowed eyes that he had picked up on it. “That’s not how I remember it,” Sirius finally said with a pointed look, and Remus didn’t want to delve too deeply into why he felt his face start to heat up.

Fortunately, or maybe not-so-fortunately, their conversation was abruptly interrupted as Remus felt somebody grab his shoulders from behind and he simultaneously heard his name shouted far too loudly than was appropriate given the time of night and the fact that they weren’t at an outdoor music festival.

“FUCK,” Remus yelled as he ejected himself off the couch, quickly noticing that the small amount of wine left in his glass had spilled onto the front of his gray henley in the process. “Goddamnit, James,” he muttered, feeling more sensitive than usual due to his slightly inebriated state.

“Yeah James, bad form this time, mate,” Sirius commiserated, which Remus was thankful for, but he also didn’t miss the unperturbed smile on the other man’s face.

“What if I had spilled wine all over your couch or something?” Remus asked incredulously, moving to sit back down, “You’re such a dick.”

“It’s leather,” James cooed and leaned down to settle his hands reassuringly on Remus’ shoulders. “Would’ve come right off,” he added, still sounding far too pleased with himself.

“That’s not even true!” Remus countered and reached back to smack whatever body part of James he could find from that vantage point, using his other hand to pull at his shirt and inspect the damage. Thankfully, Lily made her way into the room right then, and the apprehensive look on her face let him know that she had probably heard everything that had gone on in the last 60 seconds.

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” she said immediately, and the profoundly somber tone of her voice sent Remus into an unexpected fit of laughter that Sirius echoed, and Remus figured James’ grin had probably widened exponentially. “I’m grabbing you one of James’ shirts and we’re going to wash the one you’re wearing immediately.”

“Great,” Remus got out, “Thanks, Lily.”

“Where did Pete go?” Sirius asked this time, craning his neck to direct his question behind the couch at James.

“Lils kicked him out a couple of minutes ago,” James said as he made his way to the armchair by the couch, “He kept going on about work and then I started going on about work, so yeah, the lady of the house showed him to the door.” He sank into the chair and added, “You were talking and looked serious, so he just slipped out. Told me to tell you guys Happy Thanksgiving though.”

“Wow, it is getting late though,” Remus checked his phone to see that it was approaching 10 o’clock, “I should probably head out soon too.”

“No way,” James commented with a grunt as he lifted the footrest and reclined back. “Just stay here tonight, Lily and I meant to tell you that you should. Sirius is.”

“You can have the guest room though,” Sirius threw in, looking up from his phone. “I’ll take the couch.”

The idea was extremely appealing. A train ride back to the city didn’t sound too pleasant when his eyes were getting heavier as the seconds ticked by. “Is there a lock on the door though?” he asked seriously. “Otherwise I won’t be able to sleep knowing that James is probably waiting to give me a fucking heart attack at any moment in the night.”

“There’s a lock,” Sirius affirmed, “and it works.”

“Okay then— I’m in.” Remus leaned back against the couch and James shot him a lazy finger-gun as Lily made her way back into the room.

“Here you go, Remus,” she said and tossed a t-shirt onto his lap. It had the logo of the firm James worked for on it, of course, and Remus wondered if James had any t-shirts that didn’t. Probably not. “Just give me the one you’re wearing, I’ll spot clean it and throw it in the washer.”

Remus leaned forward to peel the shirt over his head and handed it over to her, then promptly pulled the clean one on. “You’re the best, Lily,” he murmured before he turned his attention back over to the guys, finding that James’ eyes were practically glued to him while Sirius was concentrating on his phone.

“Looks good on you,” James commented unnecessarily. Remus covered his face with his hands and shook his head in them.

“You’re so strange. You’re just the strangest person,” Remus heard himself mutter nonsensically, and he began to fully realize how tired he actually was. He grabbed a pillow near the middle of the couch and hugged it against his chest.

“The basis of my appeal,” James answered robotically, as if it were a response that he had used many times before in various contexts.

Lily re-entered the living room and took a seat on top of James in the armchair, and he looked around the room with a deep, contented sigh. “Well, this is nice isn’t?” he asked, slightly more energetically now, wrapping his arms around Lily’s waist and pulling her against his chest, “Getting the gang back together?”

Sirius settled his head back against the couch cushion and looked down his nose at James, and Remus thought he looked like some sort of ancient Greek god of relaxation or something. “Like all is right in the world again,” he said.

Remus hummed in agreement too, and as he peeled his gaze away to take another look around the room, his eyes landed on a picture of James and Lily on their wedding day that was displayed on the mantle. He stood up and walked over, picking the picture up before heading back to his spot on the couch.

“This picture is gorgeous,” Remus said to nobody in particular. And it was. True to her minimalist spirit, Lily wore a simple ivory wedding dress that allowed her natural beauty to really shine through. James wore a light gray suit, but it was his beaming smile that made the photo as beautiful as it was.

“It was the perfect day,” Lily mused, cleaning her head to look at her husband. “Everybody had the best time.”

“Yeah?” Remus asked with interest, setting the photo on his lap. “Tell me about it.”

Lily began, “Well, we decided to have it in Northern California, somewhat near James’ parents, which was a very strategic move on its own—“

“Given that half of Lily’s family is obnoxious and having to fly across the country gave them an excuse not to come,” James elaborated bluntly.

“Right,” Lily agreed, “So it was a bunch of Potters and only the people from the Evans side who truly cared. And we kept it small, just our really close friends and family.”

“What was the venue?” Remus asked as his eyes flickered back to the unbelievable greenery surrounding the couple. “It looks like heaven.”

“Outside of Santa Cruz, the Ampitheatre of the Redwoods,” Lily answered with a hum, “It was a dream, saying our vows surrounded by those massive, timeless trees.”

“Truly breathtaking,” Sirius added sincerely, not even an ounce of humor in his voice.

“Yes,” Lily confirmed, “and totally stress-free because we kept things so simple. Sirius was the best man, of course, and Dorcas was my maid of honor. And that was the entire wedding party. We used traditional vows because, well… James, you know.” Remus laughed because yeah, he knew. “And it was perfect, we didn’t have to worry about anything and just got to enjoy the day. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”

“Plus the reception was a blast,” James drawled without opening his eyes.

“Oh my god, it was insane,” Sirius commented brightly. “I couldn’t stop dancing, the music was too good.”

“My grandma still talks about your legendary leading,” James mumbled, “The ‘man who made her feel as light as a feather’. And to think you taught Grams how to dance to 80’s glam metal.”

“Right, and I still don’t know how to break it to James’ little cousin Sophie that Sirius only fancies men,” Lily added.

“And that he doesn’t fancy 10 year olds, that’s an important one,” Sirius tacked on.

“Well, obviously,” Lily scoffed, “But it’s going to hurt when I crush her dream that in ten years you’ll fall in love and run away together.”

“Poor thing,” Remus empathized.

Sirius sighed dramatically, “In ten years she’ll have all the age-appropriate blokes around her lined up for dates. She’s adorable and not afraid to take charge, if the dance floor was any indication at all.” Remus laughed softly at this, enjoying the image of Sirius being pushed around the dance floor by a little girl far too much. Sirius must have noticed, because when Remus looked back up, his eyes were set on Remus and the corner of his mouth was turned up.

“That sounds like an amazing day,” Remus said a moment later as he averted his eyes back over to Lily, who was also looking right at him, and maybe he was crazy, but he was pretty sure that there was something more than just a smile on her face. “I wish I had been there. I’m sorry about that.”

Lily shook her head and the expression disappeared. “Don’t be,” Lily said firmly, but her voice was still soft, “You were living your life like you needed to. And a wedding is just a day, we care far more that you’re present during our marriage.”

“I care,” James managed to articulate with force, “You owe us big time.” Remus scoffed and looked up at the ceiling, realizing there was at least one person who would never let him live that down. “Sirius, did he just roll his eyes?” James mumbled quickly, apparently having enough energy to raise his voice but not to open his eyes.

“He sure did, mate,” Sirius answered in a tone that Remus would imagine was usually reserved for talking to a child. “Good job, it’s like you have a sixth sense.”

“Just for you, Remus, a sixth sense just for you,” James murmured, his voice settled back down to a lull as he snuggled his arms around Lily again.

“Lucky me,” Remus said dryly before he leaned his cheek back against the couch and felt his eyes close as well.

“Alright folks, time for bed,” Lily announced in a strained voice, and Remus reopened his eyes to see her scrambling to get her body up out of the reclined chair.

“Whoooooa, girl, whooooa,” James bellowed as if he were trying to calm an erratic pony, and pulled her back down on top of his chest.

“No, James,” Lily ordered as she fought to break his grasp around her. Finally she wriggled free and fell out of the chair from the momentum of her struggling, “I’m not going to stay up talking to three zombies,” she added from the ground.

“Yeah, I’m about to pass out,” Remus agreed as he got up to offer Lily a hand, and she took it and pulled herself back onto her feet. Sirius immediately took advantage of the empty couch and sprawled his body across it comfortably, but he still looked alert.

“James, are we having a sleepover?” he asked.

“Mhm,” James answered, barely moving his lips, “unless Lils is willing to carry me upstairs, but I’m definitely not moving.”

“Perfect. Your heavy breathing has never failed to lull me right to sleep,” Sirius supplied as he pushed himself back up. “Going to grab my stuff from the guest room so Remus can get to bed.”

“Great,” Lily concluded and the two of them started following Sirius up the stairs. She bid them goodnight before turning to the right and heading into the master bedroom, and Remus followed Sirius to the left.

Remus leaned against the door frame of the guest room while Sirius went to grab his backpack in the corner, then he turned toward the door before apparently thinking better of it, and strode over to the bed.

“There are probably some extra toothbrushes in the bathroom,” Sirius let him know as he grabbed one of the several pillows lying on the bed and his eyes flicked back to Remus, “Lily always keeps things stocked up.”

Remus nodded. “Thanks for offering to take the couch,” he added.

Sirius yawned. “Yeah, well, it’s only because it’s your first night staying here.” He pushed a hand behind his neck and up into his hair and tacked on lazily, “Next time we can fight for it. Or whatever.”

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes, noting that, fuck, he really did do that a lot when around this set of company. “I’m going to get ready for bed now then,” he gestured in the direction of the bathroom. “Thanks for including me in all this, too. It was nice.”

“Of course,” Sirius answered simply as he walked towards the door and closed the majority of the space between them. He stopped just a couple steps in front of Remus and smiled, then his eyebrows slowly raised high. “Goodnight, then.”

“Yeah,” Remus stuttered, and he wanted to kick himself in the shin immediately, but moved out of the way instead. “Goodnight.”

Sirius sidled through the doorway and started down the stairs, leaving Remus rooted to the floor for a long second. He made his way into the guest bathroom, and he was delighted to find toothbrushes, toothpaste, and towels stocked in the cupboard. He took a quick shower and forced himself not to overanalyze the night as a whole, instead letting himself enjoy the satisfying feeling of having spent a holiday with good people. Ten minutes later, he locked the bedroom door, double-checked that the lock worked, crawled into bed, and quickly drifted into a deep — likely wine-induced — sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Remus’ first week back home in Cleveland involved a lot of resting and shoveling snow, two extremes he didn’t mind at all. The rest of the time in between was spent with his parents, who insisted on treating him to all of his favorite things — they had even mail-ordered coffee beans from New York to brew at home, which was a little overboard, he thought, but precious. It was about a year since he’d last been back, but Remus’ parents acted like he’d just returned from war after a decade, and he didn’t mind that at all either.

When they had driven around to look at the Christmas lights in their neighborhood the day after Remus had arrived, his father’s favorite holiday activity, Remus could have sworn that he’d been transported back to the 90’s— not only because that was the decade of his childhood, but because the lights twinkling in their rich, primary colored bulbs and the hokey reindeer displays on the snowed-on lawns looked like they were straight out of a classic Christmas movie from that period. There was nothing like the suburbs, in Remus’ humble opinion, the big city was overrated. 

But — hands down — the best thing about being back was that his mom did seem to be in pretty decent health, all things considered, and his worst fears were unfounded. His mother had cracked a joke about his dad’s receding hairline and went through a thermos of hot chocolate on their Christmas light adventure, so if that was any indication, she seemed to be feeling just about like her normal self.

By his third night back, his mom worked up the courage to ask him if he would play Rach 3 for them. He obliged immediately, unsure about why she had been so hesitant to ask in the first place. The sound wasn’t as crisp coming out of the used upright Baldwin that he had grown up playing, but he thought that the familiar tone added something special. He laughed when his parents gave him a standing ovation — the fourth he had received for the piece, and the smallest, but no less meaningful than the first three. 

But despite being home, Remus was surprised by how much of his brainspace was still occupied by Sirius. The evening he’d arrived in Cleveland, he turned his phone on to find a text from a New York area code that simply said “You can blame Marlene for this.” And so the time they had been spending together in New York, between the rehearsals, gatherings, and performances, was replaced by sporadic text messages. Exchanges were usually initiated by Sirius asking for an update on his mom or sending a picture of James in some precarious position with no caption, but after seven years of complete radio silence between them, it felt constant. No, “relentless” was probably a better word.

And he’d enjoyed Thanksgiving a lot, if he was being honest, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. As he checked his phone for the fourth time that morning after feeling another phantom vibration from his coat pocket, he felt a small internal conflict arise again — between the part that felt like he was on a blissful autopilot he didn’t have the control to when Sirius was in the picture, and another louder, more insistent part, that questioned what the hell he was thinking getting caught up in that again when he knew better.

When Amelia suggested they take a trip into the city to go to the West Side Market, Remus jumped at the opportunity to get out, and not just because he was thrilled to see his high school best friend again. The car ride over to downtown Cleveland passed quickly, and Remus wasn’t surprised that their conversation flowed as if no time had passed at all since they were 15-years-old and planning their entire high school schedules to match each other’s. It had always been like this between them, so easy to pick up where they had left off.

“What’s Luke up to today?” Remus asked as they got out of Amelia’s car and started across the lot together.

“He took Alex tobogganing over in Strongsville, it’s been planned for ages. Alex has begged nonstop since he officially became tall enough,” Amelia explained, then leaned forward into Remus’ space, “I mean _every_ _day._ He measured himself every day this summer. It was quite the celebration when he hit 42 inches.” 

“Oh man,” Remus laughed, “I remember my first time. Life-changing. You didn’t want to go?” 

“No no, it’s good to give them some father-son bonding time. I’ll go next time. Knowing Alex, he’ll want to go again next week and knowing Luke, we’ll oblige. And anyway, it was the perfect excuse to escape and see you,” Amelia declared as she locked arms with Remus and they entered the market. “Let’s grab a coffee first?” she asked, delicately steering them in that direction.

“And that’s why I love you so much,” Remus responded as he led the way to the coffee stand that they had fallen for in high school. She was an early caffeine adopter, like him. “I do need to see Luke before I leave though. I don’t think I’ve seen him since you guys came to Paris?”

Amelia made a sound of disbelief. “Wow, that’s right… For our fifth wedding anniversary, so that would have been about three years ago,” she confirmed, “I’ll make sure he comes around. And Alex too, he’s huge, it’s crazy.” 

“A whole 42 inches I hear, which, I agree, is crazy,” Remus supplied. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re a mom,” he added, reading the menu to see what single origin roast was brewing today as they neared the stand.

“I know, it’s stupid. Life is strange,” Amelia said nonsensically, settling in next to Remus in line. “Now, he doesn’t really remember you from the couple of times you met on Christmas trips home, he was only a toddler after all. But I have told him about the musical virtuoso from Cleveland, Remus Lupin, and he is dying to perform ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ on the piano for you. So please act impressed.” 

“I can do that,” Remus affirmed before ordering a coffee for himself and a latte for Amelia. 

She commented as they made their way to an empty table, “You must’ve missed coming here, yeah? Even with all the fun European food you had around?”

“I missed it so much, there’s nothing like the taste of home, as hokey as that sounds,” Remus agreed, sliding onto the bench across from her as she did the same, “Oh and remind me to stop by Vera’s before we leave, need to grab a bunch of pastries for Mom and Dad.” 

“Yeah, I was going to stop there anyway. I want a freakin’ brownie,” Amelia said, and almost without any pause in between, she rested her chin in her hand and tacked on, “So I googled you the other day, sir.”

Remus turned his paper coffee cup in a circle on the table. “Did you, now,” he offered, sending her a look.

She ignored it. “Word on the street is that your performance was _brilliant_ . Did you know that? That there are articles being written about how _brilliant_ you are?”

“I honestly haven’t even bothered to look,” Remus let out a breathy laugh and shrugged, “I can tell when I perform well and when I don’t, so reading about it doesn’t really do anything for me.” 

“I guess I can understand that, vaguely,” Amelia conceded with a noncommittal wrinkle of her nose, “but you know that people loved your performance, right?”

Remus hummed and tried not to let his face make it too obvious this wasn’t his favorite topic, although he had never really mastered the art. “I had hoped so?” he supplied.

“It’s so exciting, Remus! Just let my praise wash over you,” she insisted, laying her palm flat against the table and leaning toward him, “Seriously. Congratulations. I am so, so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Remus said with a small smile, then shifted uncomfortably in his chair, racking his mind for a new subject he could shift the conversation to, but Amelia beat him to it. 

“Was it surreal to be back in Lincoln Center?”

“It was...” Remus flicked his eyes to the ceiling as he thought about the right words, “It was very emotional for me, sort of overwhelming at times. It’s been so long since I’ve performed in the US, and it just highlighted how much I’ve grown in my career, you know?” Amelia nodded, and he tacked on with a light huff of laughter, “At least, that was one of the reasons it was overwhelming.”

Amelia hummed meaningfully and took a long sip of her latte. “So, I take it Sirius is still in the Philharmonic?” she asked slowly, setting her cup back down and wrapping her hands around it, “Like you had expected?”

“He is,” Remus confirmed with a grave nod and lifted his own coffee to his lips.

“Wow,” Amelia drew out the word, her eyes wide. “How did that go?” 

Remus groaned quietly, not because he was resistant to discussing this with Amelia — she was the one he had been dying to discuss it with, actually — but because he finally did have the chance to discuss it and didn’t quite know where to start. 

“It was just a lot,” Remus started as he leaned his forearms on the table. “It is very obvious now that there is always going to be this magnetic pull that I have to him no matter how much time has gone by. It’s infuriating and intoxicating and debilitating, like I want to run away from him and straight at him all at the same time.” He looked at her to see that Amelia was reacting in such a satisfying way to what he was saying that the rest just flowed out of him. “During the first rehearsal, he walked in late and my back was to the door, so I heard his voice before I even saw him, and, _fuck_ ,” he said, staring unfocused into the distance, “Amelia, it was like somebody threw a giant bucket of ice water over me.”

“Oh shit,” Amelia said through something like a cross between a laugh and a groan, and Remus knew it was because she had been around Sirius enough times to know the effect he was talking about. That damn voice.

“Exactly. And then I had to play through the first movement and pray to God that I didn’t seize up during my first day with one of the best symphonies in the fucking world,” Remus continued, recalling how formidable of a task that was and how he almost didn’t succeed at one point. “Meanwhile,” he continued, turning his cup around the table absently, “he’s sitting right behind me, of course, and I can just feel him there the entire time.”

Amelia just stared at him for a while, her eyes still wide, and Remus felt so fucking understood. It was truly therapeutic. “Did it get any better?” she eventually asked as he took another drink.

Remus made a half-hearted movement, part nod and part shrug. “In some ways, I guess it did? I was able to get used to him existing in my space again, and I mean, I suppose I stopped fearing that I would throw up all over the piano by the next rehearsal,” he said, rolling his eyes at himself and landing his gaze back on Amelia, “But then we started actually talking, and that just created a different kind of madness.”

Amelia took a deep breath as if bracing herself for something stressful, and she mirrored Remus’ posture now, forearms resting heavily on the table. “Tell me.”

Remus breathed in, thinking about the right words, and zoned his eyes in on the whimsical cosmos pattern embroidered on her scarf. He lifted a hand to mess with his hair, and it bought him another second to come up with something coherent, which he sorely needed. 

“He’s… so much the same as how he used to be, you know? Still talented, driven. Conversations flow so easily because he finds common ground with you like it’s automatic, like he was built to be engaging and interesting and making you feel engaging and interesting too. Still so gorgeous you find yourself staring at him a second longer than you meant to. Always the center of attention, but not for the sake of being the center of attention — just because he has this energy that everyone around him can’t help but be drawn to, like he’s some beautiful species you’ve ever seen before,” he explained, voice taking on an increasingly tragic tone until he caught it and huffed a light laugh to balance it all out. 

He only had to wonder for a moment if Amelia understood him. “Oh my. Mhm. Yeah _,_ ” she groaned, pressing her hand to the side of her face like ‘he should be illegal’, which, yes, they were in agreement.

“But the other thing is, he’s calmer now, too; more introspective, even. Maybe a little bit more aware of others, which is something that just comes with getting older, I guess?” Remus tacked on, because now that he had started the Sirius analysis, he couldn’t stop himself. “And,” he went on a little more energetically, “the very first thing that he says to me is in French, Amelia. And I want to fucking be swallowed into the earth and die.”

“No, absolutely not,” she empathized, shaking her head firmly. “What an asshole, I’m surprised you didn’t smack him across the face.”

“I know,” he laughed quietly for a while at her perfectly-placed theatrics. “Believe me, I know. But he just doesn’t think about those things — it’s just _him —_ there’s no bad intention there. Like, he will bring up inside jokes from way back that just send me into an internal tailspin because it’s all stuff I have intentionally distanced myself from thinking about. But again, it’s harmless, so instead of making me angry, he completely disarms me. I’m exhausted just recounting it.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Amelia commented as if offended, and Remus laughed again at her enthusiasm, “I’m exhausted hearing about it. I can’t imagine having to work alongside an ex-boyfriend. And an ex like Sirius? Fuck.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, resting his palm against the table, “That’s exactly it, it’s like I don’t even have to say anything else — thank you for getting it.” 

“Well, duh, Remus,” Amelia offered, “Don’t forget that I’m on this rollercoaster ride with you.” 

Remus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, thinking about what else he should probably get out, now that he was in the perfect company to do so. “On one of my off days, I went to the rehearsal space to practice, and Rach 3 was just driving me up a wall. So I needed a break. For some reason, I started playing a piece I hadn’t thought about literally in years. Liebestraum. It just came out of me all of a sudden,” he explained. He scratched at the seam of the cup with his thumbnail and looked up at Amelia. “It was a piece I was playing at Julliard freshman year in one of the practice rooms when Sirius had walked in and introduced himself to me. So in my 18-year-old mind, it was our love song.” Remus paused at the confession and shook his head at how silly it sounded, “And so I’m playing it, and guess who walks in, Amelia.”

She reached out abruptly to grab his forearm. “Oh my god,” she commiserated with a snort of laughter, which was appropriate, because the insanity of the past month was genuinely hilarious.

“The universe has been intent on torturing me. I mean, what are the fucking chances?” Remus said with a groan, “And then we have a lovely conversation where he proceeds to give me advice that basically solved every problem I had been having with Rach 3, which—”, Remus nodded his head in a circle and made a nonsensical gesture with his hand in closing.

“Yeah, God, I hate him,” Amelia chimed in, pursing her lips and looking downright appalled.

“I know, Amelia. I feel like a crazy person,” Remus supplied, dropping his hand back down to rest his forehead against his palm, quite spent from this conversation.

“You’re not,” Amelia said definitively, “It’s just a lot.”

Remus sighed audibly through his nose. “You’re an angel. I actually feel way better just from expressing that,” Remus said with a smile that felt a little more weightless than usual, “Can we talk about you now?”

“Not yet,” Amelia responded, “Are you going to see him when you’re back in New York?”

Remus hummed darkly. “Well that’s the other thing. I might have done something bad in my desperation,” he replied with the makings of a grimace on his face, “I’m going to be living with one of his friends from the symphony, her name is Marlene. And they are pretty close, so I’m sure I will see him through her at the very least.”

“How do you feel about that?” Amelia asked with raised eyebrows.

“I’m conflicted,” Remus admitted. “I came back to New York thinking that we would be cordial, just coexist. But he actually made it a point to bring up our relationship the other day. He’s adamant that we talk about how things ended.”

“Oh?” Amelia asked with a bit of surprise, “And you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t, no. It’s really easy to be nice to somebody on the surface, you know?” Remus answered, giving voice to these thoughts for the first time, “I can be cordial to anybody in the world, regardless of how I really feel about them. But to actually open up about how much he hurt me? To address that?” Remus’ entire body rebelled against that idea and he shook his head. “I don’t know if I want to do that to myself. It’s reopening an old wound to the person who gave it to me. And frankly, I don’t know if I want to give him the satisfaction.”

“That makes sense, though. Why would you want to be vulnerable with a person who hurt you, and so long ago? What’s to be gained?” she asked rhetorically, tilting her head to the side.

Remus was quiet for a while as he considered what they had just talked about, and her astute questions, with a fresh perspective. He realized there was nothing like working through your thoughts out loud to integrate it all — the spoken word was powerful in that way — and for someone who so often kept his experiences to himself, this conversation was proving incredibly cathartic. He took a long drink of coffee before moving onto more complicated territory. The stuff he really needed help with. 

“He said he wants us to ‘spend time together’ once I move back.” His eyes drew back up to Amelia’s.

One of Amelia’s eyebrows lifted and she hummed at that new information, and they just looked at each other for a while. “Do you want that too?” she finally asked.

Remus’ head fell to the side. “Of course I do,” he sighed, concentrating on turning his cup in circles on the table again to distract him from what he was saying. “I loved him so much, and he’s still that same person. I mean, exactly that person. And I’ll admit I haven’t felt something even remotely close to that for anybody else since.” They were both quiet for a moment as she gave him space to assemble his thoughts. “I think I’m beginning to realize there’s a reason for that, beyond that I just haven’t prioritized it,” Remus said. He felt his throat tighten oddly at that, so he looked back up at her and added quickly, “What do you think about it all?”

“Well,” Amelia narrowed her eyes in thought. “You said he brings up little jokes and memories from your relationship, Remus, which is… it’s flirting, it’s — it’s a signal that he’s probably thought about you more than you realize. He’s not going to come right out with it, he knows he’d spook you if he took it too far past your comfort zone.” Remus realized that her characterization explained Sirius’ behavior to a t, that anyone who knew Remus well would approach him the same way, really. She shrugged, adding, “So I think you should tread carefully around him, for sure, but,” she drew out the vowel, “maybe he has something to say that you’d be curious to hear. Maybe he’ll surprise you.” 

“I feel like a moron for even considering getting close to him again, though,” Remus groaned, but simultaneously felt a rush of adrenaline at her suggestion. “We talk, I hear him out, and what happens then? I don’t know what the point is.”

“Well you’re not a moron, cut yourself some slack here, please. But I do think you’re doing that thing where you jump to conclusions before you have enough information. Which is fine, just know you’re doing that and try not to let it guide what you do next,” she said moderately, “Remember it’s an option that you go into this completely at _your_ own pace, not his. And if anything stops feeling right, then don’t see him again. You don’t owe him anything.” She paused to let the message sink in, then added thoughtfully, “But Remus, people do grow up a lot by their late twenties. I don’t know, but I do wonder what he has to say about everything that happened at the end of your relationship.”

Remus had been massaging at his temple as he listened. “And here I thought you totally hated him,” he laughed softly — it was all he could think of to say right then.

“If you hate him, I hate him,” she said, her chin falling down an inch as she regarded him closely, “but you don’t actually hate him, do you?”

“Not even close,” Remus breathed out.

Yeah,” Amelia shrugged as she wrinkled her face into a knowing smile, “that’s all I need to know.”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying,” Remus whined as he tilted his head back to look up at the high ceiling above him. “I was staunchly against ever opening up a dialogue about our past, I shut him down every time he tried to bring it up. But once he kind of forced me to talk about it…” he trailed off.

“Right, he’s making an effort to get the infamously tight-lipped Remus Lupin to open up,” Amelia said with an exaggerated shrug of one shoulder. “In my opinion, at the very least, it’ll be good for you to just clear the air with him, especially since your social and professional circles overlap a bit now. It may be an uncomfortable conversation, sure, but ultimately, I don’t actually see how you lose there.”

“Yep,” Remus said evenly, finally accepting the merits of the idea, and he thought that the pop of the word out of his mouth was a perfect period to the conversation. “Okay, let’s get pierogies,” he said as he pushed his chair from the stable, stood up, and grabbed their empty coffee cups.

“Would you share a gyro with me, too?” Amelia asked as she stood up as well. Remus shot her a look of abject adoration in response, and he steered them over to the gyro vendor first. “Any chance you’ll be playing with the Cleveland Orchestra sometime?”

“I would _love_ to play at Severance Hall, their music program is one of the best in the world. Plus, you and Mom and Dad could come,” Remus paused his train of thought as they approached the counter. He ushered her forward to order to her heart’s content, then added, “But yeah, I’m trying to make it happen. Their Music Director and I are trying to work something out for next Fall or later.” 

“Awesome, but hopefully Luke and I can make it over to NYC before that,” she said.

“Please do. We can do tourist things.” Remus grabbed the huge foil-wrapped gyro that was eventually set on the counter for them and started toward the pierogi counter. “How is your job going by the way?” he asked, “We’ve been talking about me this whole time and I hate it.”

“I know you do, I’m honestly stunned I got that much out of you,” she said with a laugh, “And my job is great! You know how I had a hard time with it my first couple of years?”

“I remember. Because you felt weird being, like, five years older than some of the students,” he recalled.

“Yes, but every year has gotten easier,” she said, “Probably because I’ve gotten older but also because I’ve just learned from my experience. I really enjoy it.”

“Good,” Remus supplied, “Still teaching biology and chemistry, right?”

“Yep, that hasn’t changed,” she confirmed, “hard sciences for the win.”

He remembered the group project they worked on sophomore year— a perfect 3D replica of a mitochondria made of styrofoam that they built on her patio one afternoon, and that they put purple glitter all over for some reason. “Is it weird teaching in the same classrooms where we used to sit?” he asked.

“It was so strange at first,” she answered with a nostalgic tilt of her head, “I felt like a total imposter. Like, what am I doing at the front of the class, right? I belong in one of those shitty desks. I’m just a dumb 14-year-old.”

“That’s how I felt when I was teaching in Paris,” Remus laughed at the similarity. “But it’s probably way stronger for you since you’re actually in the same room where you were a student.”

“Right, but now it just makes me feel old,” she commented, pursing her lips.

“Your students must love you though,” he offered.

“I like to invoke fear first, and love second,” Amelia hummed as they reached the pierogie counter and Remus picked out a bunch of them to share. “It’s good to keep them on their toes, you know?” she added before grabbing a bunch napkins and a couple forks.

Remus followed her back to another table and they dug in. “Oh my god,” Remus moaned as he took his first bite, “I’m so happy right now. It’s like every other problem in my life has completely melted away.”

“Home makes everything better,” she said through a mouthful of gyro.

“You’re so right,” Remus mumbled before fixating on his food. A couple of minutes must have passed — in which he scarfed down about six pierogies — before he finally looked back up to resume interaction with Amelia. He smiled at her sheepishly as she laughed at his sudden reemergence into full-consciousness. “Sorry.”

“Shut up, this is amazing. I’ve never seen you eat so much,” she observed with a grin.

“Hey,” Remus started, his tone more serious now, “thanks for being so great to my parents. It has been the biggest relief that you keep in touch with them like you do.”

“Of course, Remus,” she said, batting her hand through the air, “They’ve always been my second set of parents, from the time I came over for the first time in the fifth grade and your mom braided my hair.”

Remus smiled nostalgically. “I know, I know, but life gets busy, and you have Luke and Alex now. I know how easy it would be to lose touch with them. But you never have, and they absolutely love you, and now Alex is like their grandchild, which... I can’t tell you how nice it was to know that they had that while I was living so far away. We’re all so lucky to have you in our lives.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This is so uncomfortable,” she said robotically.

Remus had lifted the gyro to his mouth but paused to huff a laugh first. “What? Why?” he asked.

“I”m not used to you being so, I don’t know… mushy,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up.

Remus snorted as he finished chewing. “Yeah,” he agreed, handing the gyro back to her, “it’s weird for me too, dear.”

“Well, I fucking love you,” Amelia offered sincerely, “And Lyall and Hope. I’m happy to be there for them because they mean the world to me, and I know that if I ever needed anything at all, the three of you would be there for me too, no questions asked.” 

“That’s very true,” Remus said, “And I might even take you to a musical when you come to New York.”

“Oh my god, _who are you_?!” she exclaimed, dropping her fork in a show of shock.

He huffed a laugh. “The last few years have softened me. I think I can even endure ‘Phantom of the Opera’ for you.”

“No way, been there done that. It’s going to be ‘Mean Girls’,” she corrected.

“That’s a musical now?” Remus asked with slow apprehension, hoping that Amelia had been joking.

“It sure is, and you’re going to see it,” Amelia said in the tone of someone not to argue with. Remus groaned, and Amelia chuckled in turn before reaching her fork into the center of the table to stab a pierogi. “So. Your mom’s surgery is on Tuesday then?”

“Yep, two more days.” Remus sighed, feeling his stomach turn now. “I’m terrified.”

Amelia let out a deep sigh too. “It’s a fairly standard surgery, right? And good prognosis?”

“Yes, that’s what they’ve said, but I just worry because it’s _Mom,_ and I’ve only seen her once or twice a year for the last seven years,” he got out, “If something goes wrong, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll be the worst son in the world.”

Amelia huffed and stopped him. “Um, no, please stop being an idiot. Do you have any clue how fucking proud they are of you? They follow every single thing you do online and absolutely beam when they talk about you. They would have been upset had you not taken the opportunity to perform and teach in Europe because of them, so don’t let yourself think any differently for a second.”

“You’re right,” Remus laughed sadly and brought another prerogie to his plate. “I’m sorry I’m such a drag today.”

“Are you kidding? I’m your best friend, I’m honored when you confide in me. Plus, I’m almost certain that you’ve never talked about this with anybody else, so I want you to get it out,” she said.

“Thanks ‘Melia,” Remus chimed, looking at her from under his eyelashes, and Amelia returned his smile.

“And the last day of work for me before winter break is Thursday, so I’ll be free to help with whatever you all need until she recovers,” she offered, “But it’s all going to be fine.”

“I’ll feel so much better when it’s over,” Remus said, lifting the last bite of gyro to his mouth and dusting off his fingers, “I’m getting sick of being so high strung.”

Amelia snorted, wiping her hands with a napkin, “Yeah right. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you weren’t stressing about something or overanalyzing what every little thing in your life means.” 

“How dare you,” Remus said with a slow smile. He sat back and reached for his phone. “I should probably try to fix that, huh?”

“It’s just you, Remus, but that’s partially why you’re so successful, so at least it has its perks,” she supplied.

“I’ll try to remember that the next time I can’t sleep for three nights in a row and feel like punching the wall,” Remus said in an upbeat tone before checking the notifications on his phone. He raised his eyebrows when he read the screen.

**Sirius: James tried to sneak up on me today and I accidentally elbowed him in the face.**

**Sirius: The black eye might work in your favor. Think he learned his lesson.**

Remus’ lips twisted into a smile and his fingers moved quickly to respond.

**Remus: Thank God... It will feel good not to live my daily life in fear anymore.**

“Sorry,” Remus said once he sent the message.

“You can text,” Amelia laughed. “Is it Sirius?”

Remus‘ left eye narrowed self-consciously. “How did you know?”

“I’m psychic,” she said evenly before waving her hand at him. “Go ahead, text him, I’ve got a couple more bites here, and I’m terrible at multitasking.”

He looked back down at his phone and saw another notification pop up, so he took Amelia’s advice and opened it. 

**Sirius: How is Hope?**

**Remus: Better than I expected. They weren’t withholding much from me like I was worried about.**

**Sirius: :)**

**Sirius: Surgery is on Tuesday?**

**Remus: Yes, Tuesday at 7am**

**Sirius: You’ll keep me updated?**

**Remus: I will**

Remus looked up at his phone as Amelia announced that she was going to head to the restroom before they make their last round around the market to buy pastries. Remus stood up to throw away the empty containers and leaned his hip against the table to wait for her to return. He glanced down at his phone and saw that Sirius hadn’t responded to the last text. It was probably because he had nothing else to do for the next couple of minutes while he waited for Amelia that he typed out another message.

**Remus: How are Christmas rehearsals going?**

Remus’ mouth turned up at the side when the three dots appeared immediately next to Sirius’ name, and a second later his response came through.

**Sirius: Shitty**

**Sirius: If I have to hear Deck the Halls one more time I am going to jam my bow into my ear and end it.**

**Remus: Scrooged didn’t quite work out then?**

**Remus: Not as convincing as you thought you were?**

**Sirius: It was an intentional decision, thank you. I have a finite amount of charm and decided it would be better allocated elsewhere.**

Remus heard himself laugh through his nose.

**Remus: And where would that be? Using it to charm your way into making a meal out of free samples at the supermarket again?**

**Sirius: Ha.**

Remus smiled down at his phone as he watched the three dots appear and disappear on his screen for what must have been over a minute. 

**Sirius: No Remus, I’m an adult now. I only do that on weekends.**

**Remus: Were you not fully grown at 22 then? Because I can vividly remember taking a trip to the Costco in Brooklyn after class... and you somehow wound up with 10 potstickers that were being handed out by a particularly pissy employee.**

**Sirius: YES! She even slapped my hand away, remember? It was brill.**

**Remus: Mhm, and that was after you snuck us in without a membership card.**

**Sirius: It’s called resourcefulness, Remus, ever heard of it?**

“You ready?” Remus was pulled out of his text conversation by Amelia, who was magically standing next to him now. He wondered how long she had been there and put his phone away quickly.

“Vera’s?” he asked.

“Vera’s first, then I’m going to stop at Kate’s on the way out,” she said, stepping back from the table and pulling him with her, “Luke celebrates every time I bring home crab legs.” 

“Wife of the year,” Remus laughed as they wandered away together. “Let’s do it.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, this chapter has talk of hospitals, illness, and medical emergencies in it. Just wanted to give everyone a head's up in case that's a trigger for anybody <3.

For the entirety of his life, Remus worried relentlessly about everything that was important to him. All of the different iterations of all the possible bad things that could ever happen. He worried about whether caterpillars felt pain during their metamorphosis when he was in preschool; he worried about his first piano recitals, about coming out to his parents when he was 16, about moving across the country and having a difficult time making connections with new people. In those cases, as in most, his worries were unfounded.

When it came to his mom’s surgery four days prior, he thought about every possible thing that could go wrong — even though the doctors were optimistic, the surgery was fairly common, and his mom was in good health all things considered. He planned for bad news as well as anyone could plan for bad news. And his worries were unfounded in this case, too, up until they weren’t.

His mom’s stint in post-op was suspiciously easy. Within a couple hours of coming out of the anesthesia, she was awake and smiling, and after a few more hours, Remus’ father was feeding her jello. The nurses came in to check on them in what seemed like fifteen minute intervals, shocking Remus’ medical sensibilities — for some reason, he was bracing himself for having to drag doctors in against their will to get care. 

He left the room to grab coffees when a trio of nurses came in to change out her bandages the same afternoon, the harsh fluorescent lights lining the hallway feeling strangely more welcoming now than they had yesterday when she was being wheeled into the surgery room on a gurney. He ordered his father an iced mocha situation that took a little longer than his own order, so he meandered to the window to wait. They were on the 7th floor and he had a phenomenal view of the parking garage from where he was standing, but he always thought anything covered with snow was beautiful. And his mother was _okay_ , and she was being well taken care of, and this felt like another worry he could check off his list.

In fact, he seemed to be running clear out of worries, he reflected two mornings later as he walked back into his mom’s hospital room after after spending the night back at home. He laughed at the sight of his lanky father in front of him still asleep in one of the hospital armchairs that both he and Remus had been calling their beds since Hope had been admitted, one leg stretched out and the other folded up underneath him. Since she was in recovery now, he and his dad agreed to switch off each night, refusing to ever leave her alone until it was time for her to come home.

And she had been recovering well, it seemed, until one of the incisions began to irritate her mildly one afternoon. She asked a nurse to take a look, and he agreed that the incision site near her left breast did look the tiniest bit inflamed, comparatively. He asked if it hurt, and she said no, just a little uncomfortable, and they decided to give it just a little more time, assuming the healing process was probably just running its course. But when she started to develop a high fever the next morning seemingly out of nowhere, they all agreed to contact the doctor immediately, worried that the site had become infected.

It was hard to keep track of what happened from there, everything seemed to go by in a blur. And it happened _quickly_. Her breathing had become so shallow there was barely anything coming into her lungs at all, and she was having a hard time holding basic conversation. They moved her immediately into the ICU, where the doctor announced to them after a blood culture test that Hope was in septic shock, very likely spurred on so fast because of her already-weakened system. He explained that the nurses were already setting up IV fluids and a barrage of antibiotics, saying it was fortunate they caught it early enough as her external symptoms had been exceptionally mild until the fever landed, and all Remus could think was that he was almost glad she was barely conscious for all of this for how much she hated needles. 

Eventually they were allowed into her new room. Remus attached himself to her side and registered that one of the nurses was talking with his father about hooking her up to a ventilator if her blood pressure dropped any further, and almost as if timed, the monitor sounded off.

The rest of the day, and how many more days Remus honestly lost track, went by like that. Nurses and doctors shuffling in and out checking vitals, replenishing IV fluids and changing her bandages, speaking to her as she floated in and out of consciousness, her son and husband magnetized around her. Friends came in to check on the three of them, but it only felt like something happening in the background of Remus’ consciousness, along with the eerie sound of the ventilator helping her breathe.

“Son, you should really go home for a while. I can stay here tonight.”

Remus was pulled out of his stupor by his father’s familiar voice and a gentle hand on his shoulder. He barely lifted his head up from where his forehead was resting in his arms.

“No I don’t want to,” he said, voice raspy from a mixture of disuse and lack of real sleep, carding a hand through his hair and down his neck as he dropped his head back down heavily.

“You haven’t left in three days,” he heard his father say from above him.

He took a deep breath in and raised himself up to sit back in the chair he had wheeled to the foot of his mother’s bad. “I fucking hate hospitals,” Remus snapped, not directed at his father, of course, more at the shitstorm his family had had to endure over the last week, “but I hate the idea of not being here more.”

“I’m not going to leave her, Remus. She won’t be alone at any time. There’s no reason for the both of us to stay here all night again,” Lyall observed. Remus just sat there looking at his mom, still as stone with tubes coming out of her and an oxygen mask over her mouth. He finally looked up at his father who wore an exhausted but genuinely hopeful expression as he looked back at him.

“And she’s sleeping now, Rem, the doctor says she’s recovering,” Lyall said, walking to take a seat at the armchair right across from him, and placing his hand on Hope’s ankle over the bedsheets. “She’s past the critical point. No more ventilator. She is getting better.”

“That’s what we thought six days ago,” Remus snapped again, feeling bad about it immediately and beginning to realize that his dad was probably right that he could use a good night's sleep and some real food. He took a deep breath and softened his tone before continuing, “Sorry dad, I just don’t want to be caught off guard again. _Almost_ in the clear isn’t actually ‘in the clear’, so I am feeling very skeptical. And I don’t want to be anywhere except here if something…” Remus took another breath before his voice broke, waiting a few seconds before finding the right word, “something _bad_ happens again.”

“Remus,” Lyall started gently, “You need to go home. You being here making yourself miserable isn’t helping anything.”

“Fine,” Remus exhaled, wondering why he had surrendered so easily when only a moment ago he had been staunchly against the idea. Fatigue, again, most likely. 

“Good,” Lyall breathed in relief. “She’d be pissed at me if I let you stick around here for any longer.”

Remus laughed softly as he massaged at his temples. “That’s probably true.”

“And you really need to change out of these clothes,” Lyall mumbled comically, and Remus saw him gently rub his thumb in a circle around her ankle bone.

He looked up at his sleeping mother, thinned, light brown hair the color of his own fanning across her pillow, and sighed. “Well, you’re right,” Remus realized with another laugh and looked back at his dad. “I’m disgusting.”

Lyall nodded in agreement and stuck a hand in his pants pocket, pulling out the car keys and handing them to Remus. “Get out of here. Order a pizza. Play some Bach. Sleep for 12 hours. Go crazy.”

“That’s me, Dad. ‘Crazy’,” Remus supplied as he stood up. “Text me updates or I’ll go insane.”

“Every hour,” Lyall promised before Remus nodded and headed out the door.

It was 4 o’clock when he got back to the house from the hospital, and despite his dad’s insistence that he should get some sleep, his body simply would not settle down. He got himself into bed, but he tossed and turned for about half an hour before grabbing for his phone on the nightstand. There were multiple missed messages — a couple from Lily who he had been texting updates to religiously for the past three days, the only one of them with a medical background who could help interpret what was going on — and one from Amelia, and one from Sirius. He opened the message from Sirius first.

**Sirius: Update?**

**Remus: The same.**

**Remus: Dad kicked me out of the hospital. I’m home for the first time in three days but I can’t sleep.**

**Sirius: Long shower?**

**Remus: That’s a good idea.**

Remus replied to the other texts and then dragged himself into the bathroom, wondering why he didn’t head there from the beginning for how grimy his hair felt. Although the idea of a long shower was good, it just wasn’t something that he was going to actually enjoy at the moment. He wasn’t going to enjoy much of anything, in reality. Instead, he stayed in the shower for the couple minutes it took to get clean, then hopped back out with a better idea of how to expel some of his energy. 

He used his mom’s hair dryer to blow his hair dry quickly — something that he only ever did in the dead of winter when he was in a rush to go outside — and bundled himself in his warmest winter gear. Once he had thrown on lined pants, a thermal, a sweater, gloves, hat, and his bright yellow winter coat — not the most stylish, but his mom had found it on sale when he was in high school and she had been so excited about it that he didn’t have the heart to tell her how terrible it was — he headed to the driveway to shovel away the snow that had built up in his absence. 

They had a snowblower, of course, as most residents of Cleveland with a long driveway did. But Remus was more interested in the distraction the manual labor would offer, not so much actually clearing the driveway efficiently. Anything that would keep him from crying uncontrollably into his pillow, and two hours of shoveling might be the trick to tiring out his body enough to sleep. But probably not. 

Time passed. Remus had no idea how much, lost in the monotony of performing the same motion over and over, but the sun was beginning to set, so that was something. His biceps and shoulders began to ache, and that was a good thing. When he was halfway done with the driveway, he was pulled out of his trance by the slam of a car door and a familiar voice calling to him.

“Look at you, you cute Midwest boy. You look like a marshmallow.”

Remus’ mouth twitched, unable to form words, holding onto the shovel for dear life. “Sirius,” he said turning around to face him.

“A giant yellow marshmallow,” Sirius continued, hiking his dufflebag more squarely across his shoulders as he navigated the icy terrain up the half-shoveled driveway.

“You’re,” Remus started, looking down to inspect the deep prints that the heels of his boots had actually made in the snow because he was actually, in the flesh, here. “Here.”

“I am,” Sirius confirmed once he had finally stopped right in front of Remus.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Sirius lolled his head to the side and looked at Remus as if the question were absurd, steam rising from his parted lips in small bursts, “Because you’re going through something terrible.”

Remus felt his eyes sting as he nodded in understanding, averting his gaze to the ground and toying with a button in the hope that Sirius wouldn’t notice. But when he felt a tear roll down his face, his hand reached up to wipe it quickly away, and he knew he had given himself away. 

Sirius moved quickly. He closed the space between them and pulled Remus against his own chest, hugging him tightly, and Remus collapsed against the warmth of his body. His face nestled instinctually into the crook of Sirius’ neck as the contact unleashed all of the tears that he had been holding back at the hospital. Tears he hadn’t wanted his dad to have to deal with, and tears that he would have felt guilty crying next to his mom while she laid in critical condition in her hospital bed. 

Sirius held Remus firmly, one arm gripping his waist and the other moving beneath his scarf to cradle the nape of his neck. And although Remus felt as if he had lost control of his emotions at that moment, the strong grip that Sirius held him with made him feel tethered at the same time. Like it was okay to let go, at least for that moment. They stayed like that for a while — again, Remus was having difficulty keeping track of time — as the sky around them began to darken.

“Everybody thinks you’re this impressive pianist,” Sirius broke the silence, his voice soothing, “but I know that you’re just a marshmallow trying to make it in the big city.”

Remus sniffed out a laugh, simultaneously coming to the realization that he had probably just gotten a considerable amount of snot and tears all over Sirius’ jacket. “What about the Christmas concert?” he asked, his voice watery. “And California?”

“We have understudies,” Sirius assured, and his fingers moved again to massage at Remus’ skin, but they felt cold now. “And we aren’t flying out to California until early next week. Worst case scenario, I just catch another flight out from here if I have to.”

Remus sighed out a cry. This was a lot. “You must be freezing,” he muttered, realizing that if he was beginning to feel the chill of the 15 degree weather while decked out in winter-wear, then Sirius must be really feeling it.

“Yes,” he said, but he didn’t move, “I for one am not wearing a yellow marshmallow.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Let’s go inside,” Remus said as he pulled back and stood up straight.

“Do you want me to help you finish shoveling?” Sirius asked, rubbing his hands together and breathing into them.

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Remus said as he took off his gloves and pushed his palms onto his eyes to wipe the wetness on his face away before it froze. “Come on,” he added, leading them into the house through the garage. 

A burst of warm, glorious air greeted Remus as soon as he entered the house. He took his hat off first and put it on the counter before he stripped away his coat and then the sweater underneath. Sirius placed his jacket on the barstool in front of him as Remus turned to him. “I’m disappointed you took that thing off, truthfully—“

“Oh my god, your hands are bright red,” Remus cut in. “I’m so sorry. Do you want some tea or something? We must have some in here...” he trailed off, moving toward the cabinet.

“Remus, I’m fine,” Sirius supplied casually as he walked over to the refrigerator. “When was the last time you ate real food? Like besides coffee.” 

“I’m not sure,” he answered pathetically, his eyes trained on Sirius as if he still didn’t fully believe the other man was somehow in his parents’ kitchen.

Sirius pulled the refrigerator door open, froze for a moment, then nodded energetically. “And you have no food in the house,” he tutted in a chipper tone, “What have you and your dad been eating, I wonder?”

Remus abandoned the cabinet and moved to lean his back against it instead. “The hospital has a cafe. And sometimes our friends bring us food. I don’t know, we just aren’t eating a lot. And the fridge is bare because we’ve been living at the hospital. This is the first time I’ve been home in three days.”

Sirius scrunched up his face and was quiet for a moment before turning on his heels and responding, “I’m going to order some food,” and he had his phone out in a flash.

“I’m not hungry,” Remus said.

“I don’t care,” Sirius responded back immediately, but his tone was soft. He leaned forward and set his elbows against the countertop, and Remus just nodded and took a seat at one of the barstools across from him. It was quiet while Sirius scrolled through his phone, concentrating on the task at hand.

As Remus looked at the other man inexplicably in his kitchen, it hit him again. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he broke the silence.

Sirius looked up from his phone with eyebrows raised, “It wasn’t a difficult decision, Remus.”

Remus found that he had difficulty swallowing. He coughed, probably his body’s way of compensating for not being able to formulate an actual response, and Sirius lowered his eyes back down to his phone. 

“You didn’t get a hotel or anything did you?” Remus asked a moment later. “Because you don’t need to. You can stay here. There’s an extra guest room.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Sirius replied, not breaking his focus. “Your parents don’t hate me?”

“They don’t hate you,” Remus confirmed, and it was true. They would be skeptical of Remus’ ex-boyfriend being there, sure, but Remus had never gone into detail about their breakup. The whole situation had just been confusing for them, and Remus naturally wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the things he didn’t feel like talking about, so they only got the bare minimum. 

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement and spent another 30 seconds thumbing rapidly across the screen. Eventually he set his phone down on the counter and proclaimed that he was finished. 

“What did you order?” Remus asked. 

“Everything,” Sirius announced with a tone that revealed how pleased he was with himself. “Your fridge is going to be full of so much pre-prepared goodness that you’ll be dying to eat again, and again, and again. _And again_.” 

Remus felt himself laugh for the first time in a while. It was soft and pathetic, but that was still something, right? 

“Thank you so much,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I really don’t know what to say about it all. About you being here.” 

“Maybe you could tell me about everything that happened over the last week?” Sirius said, “I know we texted, and Lily filled me in on a little too. I thought everything had gone so well and she had made it home, then the next thing I heard was that she was in critical condition in the ICU and I couldn’t get ahold of you.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, I can tell you about it.” It was the least he could do at this point. “Let’s go sit on the couch?” Sirius nodded, so Remus led them into the next room and plopped himself down at one end of the couch. Sirius followed him to the other side and it was all very similar to Thanksgiving. 

First things first. “How did you even have my address?” Remus asked.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly and crossed an ankle over his knee. “I have a good memory. Obviously I remembered you grew up in Solon, and I remembered the name of the street from when we flew here that summer. I don’t know if I would have recognized the exact house, but you made it easy on me when you were out shoveling snow looking like a neon fucking gummy bear.”

“My mom picked it out,” Remus muttered, and he would bet that a blush was starting to creep onto his face.

“Remind me to thank her for that, yeah?” he said, mouth ticking up at the side.

Remus blinked. “Yeah,” he responded shortly, but his voice cracked.

“What happened?” Sirius pried, tone soft and sincere again.

“Her surgery went well, the doctors were really happy about it. No complications, no bad side effects from anesthesia, scans showed that she should be cancer free — nothing had spread to her lymph nodes and that’s why this surgery was such a great option. From the beginning, really,” Remus explained. He crossed his arms in on himself. “The first few days were a piece of cake. I couldn’t believe it. She was on painkillers and tired of course, but normal besides that.”

“Well, that’s all good,” Sirius said with hesitance. 

“It is,” Remus confirmed, then he felt a lump in his throat that he managed to swallow down. “But then she got an infection at the incision area, something we should have been more diligent about looking out for because her immune system was already compromised, but her symptoms were so mild until it had already fully set in and she got a full blown fever. By that time, her body was entering into septic shock and she was whisked off to the ICU.”

“Ah. What is septic shock, exactly? I don’t know much about it except it can be fatal,” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded. “When your body gets an infection, it will release chemicals into the bloodstream to fight that infection. It’s ‘sepsis’ when the blood becomes infected, which can damage your organs, reduce blood pressure, bad stuff. And then it progresses to ‘septic shock’ if left untreated, and that’s when it becomes deadly.”

“But, it can be cured right?” Sirius asked slowly. 

“Yeah it can,” Remus nodded again, “When it’s treated fast enough, 60% recovery rate. According to Lily and Google.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, that statistic clearly not doing much to make him feel better either, “so what’s going on now with her?”

Remus answered, “They’ve got her on an IV and oxygen. Antibiotics are fighting the infection and vasopressor meds are increasing her blood pressure back up.”

“Is it working?” Sirius asked.

“The doctor says it is,” Remus replied.

“That’s wonderful,” Sirius said, shifting in his seat and letting his head rest against the cushion, still not taking his eyes off him.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed quietly. “I’m a little afraid to trust it until she’s better and she’s home though. So I’m just living my life in terror right now.” 

“Which is why your dad sent you home?” he surmised.

“Yeah, apparently freaking out about everything bad that could happen isn’t exactly helpful,” Remus laughed with a deep breath. “Tomorrow they should be removing her IVs and replacing them with pills.”

“It sounds like it’s going well then, right? She is on the mend, according to the medical professionals?” Sirius clarified.

“Right,” Remus nodded, hoping that if he agreed with it out loud then he might begin to feel it was true as well. “It’s just…” Remus took a deep breath and then shook his head, “nevermind.”

“What?” Sirius asked, lifting his head back up.

“It’s nothing,” Remus insisted, but as Sirius held his gaze, Remus felt himself being worn down and gave in. He was exhausted after all, and his body was functioning on barely any sustenance so all of his defenses were weakened practically to nothing. “It’s just really hard to see your mom in a hospital bed thinking that there’s a pretty big chance that she could _die_. To just sit around with no clue what’s going on and no clue what’s going to happen and feeling like you’re just completely useless.” 

Remus paused and lifted his palms to his eyes, only slightly mortified to feel some wetness transfer onto his hands. He was a fucking mess, crying in front of his ex-boyfriend. His ex-boyfriend who had flown over to Cleveland unannounced, regardless of missing performances and whatever other holiday plans he had, because he had some vague idea that something was wrong with Remus’ mom. It was all crazy. At least he couldn’t see whatever look Sirius was sending him. He started crying harder. 

A few seconds passed, Remus wasn’t sure how long, before he felt the couch shift, then arms were wrapping around his waist to pull him close. He lowered his hands from his eyes and hugged Sirius back, not using any mental energy to worry about how deeply he melted into his embrace. And it felt amazing, as if some comforting opioid was rushing through his veins, relaxing his body fully for the first time in a long time.

Perhaps it was the old familiarity of it all — the feel of Sirius’ hair against his cheek, the drag of his fingertips along his back, the rhythm of his breathing against Remus’ chest — or in contrast, maybe it was the newness of it. They had been here before, a long time ago, but it had been different — they had been different.

They stayed like that for minutes before Remus finally spoke again, still encircled in Sirius’ arms but lifting his chin off of his shoulder and leaning back slightly. He licked his lips and started tentatively, not quite trusting his voice.

“Mom gave me my first piano lesson. I was five,” he said, “She taught me herself my first year until I progressed too quickly and outgrew her.” 

“She did good,” Sirius pulled back slightly too and he tilted his head so that their foreheads and noses were touching. Sirius’ eyes were looking directly into his as his hands moved from lightly drawing on his back to resting against his sides.

“What if she dies, Sirius?” Remus heard himself say. He choked on the next words as they came out, “She’d never get to hear me play again, and it is her favorite thing in the world.”

“She’s going to be okay, Remus,” Sirius murmured in a soft tone but the words were resolute. Remus closed his eyes in response and gave a minute shake of his head. Events like this tended to lead people to reevaluate their lives, and that was precisely where Remus’ mind had gone, whether he’d realized it or not.

“I never should have left her when I knew the cancer could come back, I never should have left the US. I have no idea what I was thinking going through with it.” Remus blinked again and was met with the soft gaze of Sirius’ attentive gray eyes, and before he knew it, his voice cracked again and he was saying something that he had never even let himself think before. “I should have stayed here with you.”

Remus was in a daze as he spoke, too tired to put a filter on his thoughts and to worry about the impact of what he was saying, too tired to say anything that wasn’t true, and far too tired to break eye contact once he had found it. He registered the cut-off sound that came from the throat of the man holding him, an apt precursor to what came immediately after it. One of Sirius’ hands squeezed tighter at his waist while the other one moved up to hold his jaw, thumbing away the tear that had trailed down to land on the curve of Remus’ top lip. Remus watched as Sirius’ eyes flicked down for a half second before moving back up to his eyes, and Remus closed the rest of the distance between their lips. 

Sirius kissed him back tenderly at first, restrained, but when a soft sound was pulled from Remus’ mouth, his hand moved to the center of Remus’ back to bring him even closer. Remus was fully aware of every nerve-ending in his body as their lips aligned with perfect ease. Sirius moved to plant delicate kisses to the corners of his mouth before gently parting his lips with his own, and the familiar taste of Sirius’ tongue sent Remus sinking into another world. Minutes passed like this; Remus’ fingers snaking into Sirius’ hair shakily; Sirius holding him soundly, steadily; and Remus thought of nothing but how amazing it felt to be here, a place he had admittedly been running from, probably because it had always felt so right and the thought of having it torn away for a second time was terrifying. 

Sirius pulled back first and lowered his body down into the couch, bringing Remus down with him too. Remus allowed himself to be pulled to Sirius’ side without any thought at all. But instead of continuing where they had left off, Sirius shifted so that Remus’ head laid against his sternum, their legs tangled together, and Remus felt the comforting rise and fall of Sirius’ chest overlaid against the rhythm of his heartbeat under his palm. Sirius moved one hand across his body to lightly massage the back of Remus’ neck, while the other crept under the hem of his shirt to stroke against the skin of his lower back, and it felt like home.

Remus closed his eyes and felt himself start to drift off, thinking that he was probably slimmer than the last time Sirius had seen him, more of a lightweight than a welterweight these days. He felt self-conscious for a brief moment before remembering that it was Sirius who was touching him and those kinds of things didn’t matter with somebody who knew him so completely from the inside-out. 

“Remus,” Sirius’ whisper lulled him out of whatever pre-sleep state he had slid into however many minutes ago, “the food is here,” and then he felt pressure on the top of his head, the press of Sirius’ lips most likely. “I’ve got to get up, I’m sorry.” 

Remus cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much, because when he responded his voice was hoarse anyway. “That’s alright,” he said as he pressed himself up into a sitting position, missing the proximity and the touch immediately. Sirius sat up as well, looking at Remus for a couple of seconds as if deciding what to do next, but ultimately averting his gaze down when his phone vibrated, probably not for the first time. 

“I’ll grab it,” Sirius said and stood up, and Remus couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment but nodded anyway. Remus leaned his elbows forward onto his knees and rubbed at his tired tear-crusted eyes as he heard the front door open and then shut again behind Sirius. 

Less than a minute later, the door opened again and Sirius returned carrying several large bags full of take-out. His eyes followed Sirius into the kitchen, watching him as he set the boxes out before he turned back to him with an expectant expression. 

“So what do you fancy?” he asked, and Remus stood up finally and headed over to him. “I ordered Mexican, loads of Mediterranean, Indian, and Thai. If your tastes haven’t changed materially in the last seven years, you can’t go wrong with any of it.” 

“Mediterranean,” Remus answered. He didn’t know how his stomach was going to feel, but he knew that Sirius was right. He should at least try to eat before falling asleep for the night. 

“Chicken and hummus and rice and salad it is!” Sirius cheered as he presumably starting trying to locate the plates. “The Indian is mostly for your dad to try, because if he’s anything like you…” his chiding trailed off as he rapidly opened and closed a series of cabinets.

“Over there,” Remus helped, pointing to the far left as he moved to a different cabinet to grab two glasses to fill with water. 

“Right. And silverware?” Sirius asked, fluttering his fingers in the air over the drawers.

“Third drawer on the left,” Remus answered. When Sirius opened the drawer to find it was filled with spice jars, he gave Remus a confused look. “Sorry, second on the left,” he said, and when Sirius huffed dramatically and held up a used notepad from the family junk drawer and asked him if he even lived here, Remus snorted, far too amused by his terrible joke in his delirium. “Far left.”

After finding everything he was looking for, Sirius turned his attention to what must have been the two boxes of Mediterranean food and began filling their plates up. Remus put the rest of the genres in the refrigerator and joined him on a barstool once he’d finished, smiling in tired gratitude when Sirius pushed a plate in front of him. 

They ate in silence for a long while, and Remus was glad for that. He was more emotionally, physically, and mentally drained than he had ever been in his life, and as usual, Sirius acted exactly how Remus needed him to. Remus ate more than he expected he would, pleased his stomach wasn’t rejecting the food like he thought it might. He felt a lot more grounded — and frankly, a lot more like a human being again — by the time they had both finished and he got up to put both of their plates in the dishwasher.

“I’m going to put a movie on in my room while I fall asleep. Want to watch with me?” Remus asked directly. Sirius took his time finishing his drink of water, looking at him from over the glass.

“Yes,” Sirius answered simply, setting the glass down, and Remus nodded. Sirius went to grab his duffle bag off of the floor of the living room before following Remus up the stairs, both of them silent. Remus immediately went towards his dresser to grab something comfortable to sleep in, and Sirius seemed to follow his lead, rifling through his bag.

“Your room looks exactly the same,” Sirius spoke first, his voice full of intrigue as he dropped his dufflebag to the floor and kicked it under the desk. Most of the room was colored in simple grayscale and just a few pieces of functional furniture — Remus was a bit of an aesthetic minimalist, after all — with the exception of about a dozen local art prints pinned sporadically to the walls and his favorite books translated into French displayed on his shelves.

Remus laughed lightly. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve only been back here a handful of times since the last time you saw it.” Sirius was standing by one of Remus’ nightstands now, clothing draped over his shoulder, and sniffing vaguely at a candle on top of it. “Except that, that wasn’t me.”

“‘Novella,’” he said, bending down to read off the candle’s label, “‘Smells like rich mahogany and thoughtful prose.’ I’ll say.” He picked up the candle and turned around, holding it to his nose, “Although Hope really did a solid job picking out a scent that perfectly describes her bookish son, didn’t she? Really rounds out the whole thing you have going on, wouldn’t you say?”

Remus rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the door handle. “I’m going to go change,” he said, “You can make yourself comfortable.”

“Alright,” Sirius answered, turning back around, and Remus journeyed to the bathroom across the hall. 

He took his time, appreciating the first moments of solitude since Sirius had arrived and brought along an emotional tsunami that Remus absolutely did not regret getting caught up in, but was still an unexpected turn in his week. After brushing his teeth, washing his face, and changing into a pair of plaid boxers and an old t-shirt from his senior year of high school with the nickname Amelia had come up with— ”Clair de Lupin” — printed onto the back, Remus made his way back into his room. 

Sirius was sitting upright against the myriad pillows lining the headboard of his bed, ankles crossed and also donning a different t-shirt but still in black jeans, with the TV remote in hand as he flipped through the channels. He threw open the covers he was laying on top of and nodded Remus over. 

“You can pick whatever you want, I’m probably going to pass out within two minutes. We have On Demand and Netflix,” Remus offered as he crawled underneath the sheets and comforter with a raspy sigh. 

“Perfect,” Sirius said from beside him, “Are you sure the noise won’t bother you?”

“Positive, I like the noise right now. And I’ve been ‘sleeping’ in a hospital for the last three days, so this is a huge upgrade, TV on or not,” he answered and Sirius hummed as he clicked over to On Demand. 

Remus was sure he would fall asleep successfully this time for a variety of reasons, once he checked his phone and got an update from his dad, something he shockingly hadn’t done once since he had showered. He reached for his phone off of the nightstand and braced himself as he saw five messages from his dad waiting for him. Remus took a deep breath before opening the message thread up.

**Dad: She’s doing great, still sleeping soundly.**

**Dad: Blood pressure going up steadily and consistently. Doctors are happy!**

**Dad: She woke up thirsty, which is a good sign. Is even holding conversations with me now.**

**Dad: We are watching an episode of the Office. Is that Dwight guy supposed to be funny? We don’t get it.**

**Dad: Haven’t heard from you so I hope you’re sleeping. I’m going to try to get some sleep now too. Mom is too, so there won’t be any updates for a while. Doctors are still happy though, don’t be worried. Goodnight.**

“Good news, then?” Sirius asked as Remus put his phone face down back on the nightstand, probably on account of the smile on his face.

“Yeah, it sounds like she's recovering really well,” Remus responded as he shifted his body down to lay his head flat on the pillow, looking up at the same ceiling he had slept under for the first 17 years of his life. Sirius turned out the lamp next to him and Remus closed his eyes, listening to the lull of the intro to whatever movie Sirius had chosen. 

“Dirty Dancing?” Remus mumbled as his ears picked up on Baby’s familiar opening monologue.

“Well it was that or Face Off, but I figured the intensity associated with one man wearing another man’s face wasn’t right for this particular moment,” Sirius divulged.

“Oh my god,” Remus turned onto his side to look up at Sirius, who was busy adjusting the volume down. “You and that ridiculous movie.”

“It’s brilliant, Remus. John Travolta _wears_ Nicolas Cage’s _face_ ,” Sirius described the alarmingly simple plot with quiet passion and a spark of challenge in his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up as he looked down at Remus.

“I’m aware, Sirius. It’s so stupid,” Remus retorted, having suffered through Sirius and James’ trademark movie far too many times than could have ever been necessary for anybody to endure. One viewing would have been more than enough. “I’ll take Dirty Dancing. Good call,” he mumbled again, closing his eyes, and immediately drifting to the precipice of sleep. “You’re right, that is a good candle,” he whispered nonsensically, and Sirius’ light chuckle was the last thing he registered.


	12. Chapter 12

Remus opened his eyes feeling better in every way possible than he had in a week — but much further back still, if he were being accurate. There was no dull ache behind his eyes from the fatigue, and even his worries felt less severe, probably from having released so much of the pent-up emotions that had been plaguing his mind the night prior. It was as if he had thrown off that suffocating tapestry of fears — of loss and of the unknown — that had been some sort of twisted security blanket to him in the past. Because somehow, the fear Remus drummed up in his own mind had always felt better, more controllable than reality. He thought that was probably the same for most people, and he was also beginning to realize how much his self-induced anxieties had held him back when he kept it all in.

Remus halted his morning self-reflection to peek over to the other side of the bed at someone who decidedly did not have that problem, and he was surprisingly unsurprised to see Sirius still there, in the same sitting position Remus had seen him in before falling asleep the night prior. However, the TV was off now and Sirius’ hair was pulled back, and he was focusing on the notepad leaned against one of his propped up knees. Sunlight streamed in through the partially opened blinds, spreading panes of golden yellow across the music score Sirius had been working on while Remus slept.

Apparently Sirius could feel his eyes on him, for he tipped his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “You’re awake,” Sirius’ voice pulled him completely out of his almost-awake state, and at that, he officially re-entered the realm of the living. 

“Mmmm,” Remus croaked as he lifted his arms above his head for a full body stretch, letting his eyes fall shut again. “What time is it?”

“A little after 11am. You were dead to the world for over 13 hours I think,” Sirius said, and Remus heard him tap the eraser end of his pencil against the paper. 

“Damn. I’m not surprised. But damn,” Remus sighed through another more punctuated stretch. “I hope you haven’t been terribly bored,” he added as he rolled to his side and took Sirius in fully for the first time that morning. There was a light stubble lining his jaw that he could see particularly well from that vantage point, and Remus decided there were worse views to be saddled with upon waking. 

He let his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer while Sirius rolled his eyes in a very Remus-style fashion, and Remus couldn’t suppress the look of affection he knew was invading his face. 

Sirius smiled back before lolling his head back around. “I’ve been having a blast as a matter of fact,” Sirius provided as he finished sketching out a series of notes on different lines, probably for different instruments, Remus figured. He continued, not looking up, “I finished Dirty Dancing last night and then fell asleep after starting the Haunted Airman, which, I don’t know if you remember, is a truly, _truly_ terrible movie.”

“Oh my god, I remember,” Remus smiled with groggy amusement as he recalled the winter day they just had to experience Robert Pattinson’s obscurest movie for no good reason at all. “I don’t know why you would do that to yourself.”

“Then I woke up wondering _why_ I would do that to myself,” Sirius continued in a put-upon tone without otherwise acknowledging Remus’ comment, which earned him a snort, “took a fantastic shower, brewed a pot of coffee that would be ready for you when you woke up, and have been writing ever since.”

“Good, all three sound amazing,” Remus declared as he rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, Sirius was looking back down on him with an expression he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Remus found he didn’t mind it. “Especially the coffee,” he joked, but no, it wasn’t really a joke, of course not.

Sirius let his head tilt back against the headboard and he laughed silently. “Incorrigible,” he pronounced with resolve before swinging his body around dramatically to land his feet on the floor. “I can take a hint.”

“Thank you,” Remus replied softly as his eyes automatically followed Sirius, all legs in a t-shirt and black boxers, move across his room and out the door without another word. He scrambled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, needing to at least brush his teeth and rinse off before he could enjoy his first coffee of the day.

When Remus returned to the room with a hand messing at his wet hair, Sirius was back on ‘his side’ of the bed, his leg bent at the knee and swinging lazily side to side. He had the sheet draped over the rest of him and was balancing a large mug atop his other thigh in waiting, reading something on his phone with his free hand. And after their kiss the night before, the feel of Sirius’ lips came back to him in that moment in a flood, Remus couldn’t stop his mind from suggesting how incredible it would be to feel Sirius’ bare skin against his own; covered by nothing but a thin sheet, insulating them in their own little tactile world.

“Thank you,” he supplied airily, grateful Sirius had missed the look that flashed across his face, and he sat down on the bed and covered up with the sheet, the quilt, and the heavy comforter before taking the mug of coffee from Sirius’ outstretched hand. “Still not a fan?”

“Of coffee? Never. Vile, disgusting stuff. Undignified and stains the teeth,” he said eveningly while he leaned over to set his phone on the nightstand.

“Oh, please,” Remus snorted before lifting the mug to his lips, taking a long moment to relish the first taste, and sending Sirius a look of satisfaction for a job well-done. “Do you still love your Goo Goo Clusters?”

“Do I still love them…” Sirius chided in confirmation, as if it were obvious. “Brilliant little treats. I’m surprised you aren’t a bigger fan, actually, seeing as they celebrate the marshmallow like they do. I’d think you’d appreciate that sort of representation in a world where the marshmallow is often discounted, cast aside.”

“Oh my god,” Remus shook with laughter, having to recenter himself before getting back to his original punchline. “Talk about ‘undignified’. They are called ‘Goo Goo Clusters’ for fuck’s sake,” he added, and Sirius’ shoulders set to quaking next, “You’re just a walking contradiction.”

“And I’ll wear that label proudly,” Sirius supplied before sliding his leg under the covers and settling back in, “when you’re right, you’re right.” He reached over to push gently against the indentation in the covers that was Remus’ knee and asked gently, “Are you feeling better today?”

“I can’t believe how much better I feel, actually,” Remus nodded slowly, feeling the caffeine begin to kick in already. “I checked all my messages while you were grabbing the coffee, and Dad has sent me nothing but good updates.” Remus waited a beat, his nail tapping lightly against the mug, before he continued on again, quieter this time. “I think I would have gone insane last night if you hadn’t been here, Sirius. I don’t even know what to say to thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sirius responded simply, and Remus found it nearly impossible to hold eye contact longer than a second after their eyes met. He nodded instead and took another long drink of coffee. 

It was quiet for some time, and Sirius must have figured Remus wanted to drink his coffee in peace; he moved to grab his notepad from where he had set it on the nightstand, until Remus interrupted him again. “Sirius?” Remus asked, his voice back to normal now and his head resting back against the headboard.

“Mmm?” he replied, glancing over.

“How have things with you been?” Remus asked, tilting his neck to look at him sidelong.

Sirius sat back fully again. “What do you mean?” he clarified curiously.

“I mean I haven’t taken the time to ask about your life since I’ve been back. How have the last seven years been for you? Your music, your friends,” Remus asked, a bit hesitant, but eventually added, “your family?”

“Oh,” and Sirius paused with surprise, probably at being asked, Remus thought with a wave of guilt. “Well, my family hasn’t changed much if that’s what you’re getting at. But I guess it’s become more normalized now, so it doesn’t take as much from me as it used to. It just is.” 

“Good,” Remus nodded, trying to read Sirius’ expression for tells but not finding any, “I’m glad you’re at peace with it now. I never did understand the whole thing though,” he offered, waving his hand, “They were in a whole different world.”

Sirius’ raised his eyebrows. “My family?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” he answered minutely, scrunching his nose for a moment, “The dynamic with your parents — it was just so bizarre to me.” To say the least. It had been so strange when they were first getting to know each other, how different their upbringings were in pretty much every way. The reasons Sirius initially decided to come all the way to America to study music — when many of the world’s best music programs were in his backyard — had started to make a lot more sense with the more he learned. Remus had never spoken to the Blacks, they’d never even approached a conversation about going back to ‘meet the parents’, and they very likely hadn’t even known he existed. Likely for good reason on Sirius’ part, even if Remus had probably misinterpreted it at first.

“Me neither,” Sirius laughed. “Well that’s not quite true anymore. It’s been easier to understand since I fully accepted that the Potters weren’t just screwing around when they essentially adopted me into their family.” 

Remus turned the cup of coffee around in his hand. “What was easier to understand?” he asked.

Sirius hummed and glanced up thoughtfully. “That toxic family dynamics established early on don’t just fix themselves magically when the kid grows up. I’m never going to forget how they treated me, and they are never going to accept that I have a right to be angry — that if they actually did care about me, and not just because I have their last name, they would want to understand me and give credit to the things that I say. And you know, enter into the 21st century and all that.” He huffed a laugh and added sarcastically, “I have to think it’s exhausting being a bigot, but who am I to know, really.”

Remus gave a hum of his own. “I see. So I guess none of that,” he said, waving his hand in the air to capture the threads he’d picked up on in Sirius’ explanation, “has happened?”

“It’s _never_ going to happen,” Sirius offered with a nonchalant shrug tacked on, and it was clear that this wasn’t a raw subject for him anymore, “and that was the best thing for me to realize because now I have moved on. It’s like a switch flipped and all of the sudden I accepted it.”

Remus hummed. “And Regulus?” Remus asked hesitantly, although he wasn’t sure if he should bring up his younger brother. This had always been the most difficult one for Sirius.

“Still a monumental prick,” Sirius conceded, pulling a face.

Dammit. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius clicked his tongue and sighed in a resigned way. “Don’t be, siding with them gets him the life of luxury that he wants for now. It doesn’t help my cause that he knows I’ll always love him regardless,” he supplied, “And if he ever wants to get in touch with me again, I’ll welcome him with open arms, but I’m done waiting around hoping for it. Things changed so completely between us once I left London, and that’s the chance I took in getting out of there — I mean, Orion and Walburga did a fine job of making it clear he was to choose one side of the fence at that point, and Reg’s choice has never changed.”

The ghost of a grimace passed across Remus’ face before he reigned it in. “Has it ever been hard? Going so long without seeing or speaking to your family?” he asked, mostly because it was something he would personally have had a terrible go at but Sirius never talked about much, “I can just imagine it was tough to turn that instinct off, of wanting to repair things. Especially with Reg.”

Sirius sighed, thinking over the question. “You know, getting to the point where I could turn it off was the hard part. It took a lot of years,” Sirius said, looking over at him, “But you knew that, I suppose? That’s why you’re asking me this now.” Remus nodded once and waited for him expectantly. 

“It really helped me to physically move away. Far, far away. I think I owe most of it to the distance,” Sirius explained. “I didn’t know what I was doing at the time apart from escaping, but I trusted that feeling, and in hindsight it was precisely what I bloody needed to do.” Remus nodded again and just watched him. “I returned to London briefly a few years back, just for a few days,” Sirius continued, tone shifting to something more clinical, like he was recalling historical facts. “And just the act of landing on that soil felt so wrong,” he tipped his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, “Was then that I knew for certain it was my lot in life to fully merge with American culture and have been a devoted Justin Verlander fan quite literally ever since,” he added, voice going exaggeratedly haughty there at the end, which Remus couldn’t keep from smiling about despite the nature of the content he’d shared.

“Well.. Jeez,” Remus remarked rather uselessly. Sirius leveled him with another oddly cavalier shrug, and a dark laugh crept out of Remus’ mouth at that.

“What on earth?” Sirius laughed.

“You’re just so… unbothered now is all,” he said, lifting the mug to his lips and hesitating a moment to add, “And insightful.” 

“About more than just issues of my family, you know?” Sirius added seriously with a pointed look and Remus knew exactly what he was referring to. He choked on his coffee slightly, and his false sense of security that this specific topic was being mutually ignored dissolved quickly. He coughed to clear his throat before sending Sirius a look that he imagined was pleading. 

“Not yet,” Remus paused when Sirius raised his eyebrows because he knew exactly what the other man was silently asking. “When we’re back in New York. First thing. I promise.” 

“Good. Yeah, okay.” Sirius nodded, and Remus felt relieved that his suggestion was accepted without a fight. Sirius’ patience probably had a lot to do with the fact that Remus had been living in abject terror for the past few days, but at the same time, Sirius had been like that the whole time, hadn’t he? Able to read the space he needed unlike anyone else ever had. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise. 

“Where are you living now?” Remus tapped his fingers on his nearly empty mug as he changed the subject back to Sirius and one of the things he had been wondering about since returning to New York. 

Sirius turned to regard him with a strange expression, and Remus felt his resolve falter slightly, but fortunately, Sirius spoke up. “I’m still in Brooklyn,” he started slowly but unflinchingly, as if he were deciphering the real question that Remus was asking. “Not in the same place, obviously.” Yep, he got it. 

“No?” Remus asked lightly, hiding behind the mug.

“Of course not,” Sirius elaborated, and for the first time there was a noticeable amount of snip accompanying his words. “The lease was up like a month later; you know that, you negotiated it.”

Remus nodded with an air of feigned indifference that felt out of place even to himself. “Yeah, I just figured you could have renewed it, I don’t know, to make things easier on yourself,” he offered, “not have to move and all that.”

Sirius closed his eyes in what looked like frustration, and he leaned his head back for five seconds before training them back on Remus. “No, Remus, there was no way I was going to stay there once we broke up.” 

“Just a bit surprised is all, it was such a great find—“

“I know you’re surprised,” Sirius snapped back at a higher decibel. “Because you won’t have—“ he continued quickly before taking a steadying breath. “Because you won’t have a conversation with me about everything that happened. So if you are going to keep pushing it off, please don’t presume that you know things that you don’t.” 

Remus was a little stunned for a moment, not used to this sort of reaction from Sirius, or from anyone really. He swallowed as he let himself absorb what Sirius had said, mind flitting automatically to what Marlene and Amelia had said about the questionable accuracy of his perspective. 

“You’re right,” he nodded slowly as he lifted his eyes to meet Sirius’ harder gray ones. “I’m sorry; I won’t do that anymore.” 

“Thank you,” Sirius exhaled as if he had just won a longstanding argument, and Remus could appreciate how frustrating it must have been for him to have made assumptions without then giving Sirius the opportunity to correct him if they were wrong. 

The two men were both quiet for a minute, letting each other settle down from the mini-confrontation. But Remus did feel guilty about his indulgent line of questioning, as Sirius had a long fuse and didn’t get frustrated unless something bothered him at a deep level, so he spoke up again first. 

“Where in Brooklyn now? And do you like your roommates?” he asked, his tone purposefully lighter and more upbeat, careful to keep any trace of the condemnation Sirius had interpreted earlier out of his voice.

“Still in Williamsburg, it’s too fucking cool to ever live anywhere else,” Sirius said, and the easy expression on his face told him that in true Sirius fashion, he’d moved past the friction. 

Remus smiled and laughed silently, both in relief and agreement. Sirius really was the picture of Brooklyn chic. Made for it in that ratty leather jacket he knew Sirius probably still owned and looked downright perfect in. “I totally get that, you really belong there.”

“Thanks. And,” Sirius started, crossing his ankles underneath the sheets, “I bought a flat there. And it’s just me. Just a one bedroom and I love it.”

He bought a flat? “Wow, that’s incredible, Sirius,” Remus reacted in awe. “So you’re really invested in staying in New York, then,” he surmised, “At least for a while longer.”

Sirius gave a firm nod. “But I can’t take full credit for the decision overall,” Sirius explained, “My uncle passed away about six years ago—”

Remus sat up suddenly straighter and his heart sank, although he recognized his reaction was many years too late to have any sort of relevance to Sirius. “No. Not Alphard?” 

He recalled the many times he and Sirius had Skyped when they were in school, and Remus had gotten to meet his extraordinarily eccentric uncle once in person when he’d visited — a brilliant scientist back in Europe, and proudly and emphatically estranged from the rest of the Black family too. Their relationship reminded Remus of his relationship with his own parents in some ways. Alphard would make — although that wasn’t quite the right word, as Sirius was a much better sport than Remus was and always seemed glad to oblige the requests — Sirius perform his compositions while he listened in rapture from the other side of the lens. 

Sirius nodded heavily, eyebrows pulling up at the middle. “Yes, and, unbeknownst to me, he’d left me as his sole heir in his will.”

Remus’ jaw dropped for a moment before he gathered it back up again. “Oh — well... That’s...” Remus stuttered and tried again, “That’s really—”

“I know,” Sirius laughed morosely, “It’s sad and fortunate at the same time. I mean, Alphard was an amazing man and was the closest figure I had to a real father growing up. I wish he was still alive, and I’m also so grateful that I meant enough to him that he would do something that huge for me.”

“Right,” Remus sighed out. There wasn’t much else to add; Sirius had said it perfectly.

“So, I used a portion of it to buy one of the more practical flats in Brooklyn. Small, in a good area, nearly guaranteed to go up in value,” he supplied. “And a wicked view,” he added dreamily.

“It probably already has gone up in value,” Remus suggested, and the look on Sirius’ face confirmed that it was true. Remus laughed and took his last drink of coffee before placing the empty mug on the nightstand, settling down lower against the pillows, and looking back at Sirius. 

“You’ll come see it? As soon as you’re back?” Sirius asked, and Remus almost jumped at the question because this was right about where his flight response might have kicked in, and probably because it dawned on Remus how badly he had wanted to be asked. And the tone of Sirius’ voice — direct, sincere, lower by an octave — that registered somewhere in the pit of Remus’ stomach didn’t help either.

“Yeah,” Remus said immediately, but his voice didn’t sound like his own anymore. “Of course.”

“Good,” Sirius mumbled as he leaned over on one hand into Remus’ space, looking skeptical of Remus’ response as he searched his face for sincerity. He seemed placated by what he found and leaned back again, but the corner of his mouth was crooked up now, apparently correctly reading the flash of disappointment cross Remus’ face before he could stop it from forming. Sirius slowly put his weight into that hand again, but whatever he was about to do was cut short by the sound of the doorbell ringing three times in quick succession.

Remus coughed in surprise as Sirius laughed a breathy sound and lifted himself back to the other side of the bed. Remus watched Sirius stand, eyes glued to where his shirt was bunched up — for the love of _God —_ above his hip bone.

“And that’s my cue to get out of bed,” Sirius chimed while he scooped up his jeans and plucked a new shirt from his bag without a second of deliberation, and then he threw Remus a peace sign as he walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Remus pulled on the first pair of pants he was able to locate and hustled down the stairs just as the fourth ring commenced. “Amelia,” Remus said in surprise as he opened the front door to find his best friend standing outside, holding a large brown paper bag in each hand. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Yeah, this is what happens when you don’t respond to any text messages for over 16 hours, Remus. Your dad sent me.” She pushed past him — doubled back to kiss him on the cheek — and then entered the house before making a beeline for the kitchen, and Remus closed the door quickly to keep the cold out.

He groaned as he followed her. “Shit. I feel so bad. I’ll text him back right now,” he said as he quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, get back to him, but don’t feel bad. He figured you were sleeping the whole time anyway,” she said, peeling off her heavy coat and scarf before starting to pull items out of the bags to set them on the counter.

“Well, yeah, he wasn’t wrong,” Remus said, finishing up his text and leaning a hip against the counter to watch her. “That was a big part of it.”

“But I wanted to stop by anyway because I knew you’d be out of food.” She compiled the carton of eggs and packet of chicken sausage in her hands and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“Ah, okay.” Remus nodded as he swallowed, watching Amelia as she navigated the kitchen far better than he could, as evidenced by the night prior, and he wondered how he was going to broach the subject of Sirius being there in his house. “Need any help?” he asked, but she just waved him off.

“All I need is a couple of pans and olive oil, then we’re golden,” she mused as she plucked two medium-sized pans from the cabinet and set them on the burners. “So how did you sleep, hon?”

Remus sighed. “Really well. I’d turned into a rightful zombie by that point, so pretty grateful dad forced me out,” he said, crossing his arms and listening for sounds upstairs. Silence. “I shouldn’t have fought him so much about it.”

“You can be a bit of a turd when you’re tired, a little like Alex, come to think of it,” Anelia teased as she poured oil into the first pan. Then she turned around all of a sudden, as if she had just remembered something, and walked to the fridge. “Oh you know what, you at least have hot sauce, don’t you—“ but she paused mid-sentence when she opened the door and was met with all of the take-out boxes from the night before. “This is enough food to feed the entire neighborhood,” she said quizzically, “Did you just get online and order everything possible?”

“Something like that,” Remus laughed. “Easier than ordering groceries and having to cook?”

“Well it’s not the worst idea, I guess,” she said as she peeked into one of the boxes before shutting the door. “It’s just, like, _so_ much food though, you psycho,” she added, giving him another look that suggested he’d gone off the rocker, “But at least you’re eating, can’t complain.”

Remus walked over to the cabinet where the mugs were and grabbed two before moving over to the coffee pot that Sirius had somehow figured out how to operate earlier that morning. The coffee was still hot, and he set one steaming mug on the counter in front of Amelia, who was now whisking a bunch of eggs to scramble.

“Thanks, Rem,” she looked up at him with a smile. A second later, he saw her eyes widen as they darted slightly over his shoulder, and he knew the jig was up. “Oh, hello,” she said with remarkable evenness; Remus was thoroughly impressed.

“Hi Amelia,” Remus heard Sirius say as his footsteps got closer, but Remus kept his eyes glued to Amelia, whose gaze was flicking back and forth between Remus and the person who had just sauntered into the kitchen on his right. He knew it by the tone of his voice — he had _definitely_ sauntered.

“Sirius, wow, I didn’t realize you were here.” She paused and Remus waited to see what was going to happen next, more amused than he thought he would be in this situation. “Would you like some eggs?” Remus burst into laughter at her hospitable question and she shot him a glare, waving the bowl around comically. “What?! What else am I supposed to say? It’s not like you gave me head’s-up!”

“Sorry, I was getting there,” Remus responded sincerely as Sirius chimed in that eggs would be brilliant and sat down on the barstool next to him. “He got here last night, a complete surprise to me too.” 

“Oh.” Amelia looked between the two of them again, and Remus knew without a doubt that she was working extra hard to hold her tongue about whatever she was thinking. “That was very nice of you,” she said, eyes darting between them again to eventually land on Sirius.

“Why thank you, I thought so too,” Sirius responded cheerfully, leaning forward on his elbows. 

“Right…” Amelia said slowly, her apprehension obvious, but Remus gave her extra points for not launching into a billion questions right then and there.

It was silent for a few seconds in pure, unadulterated awkwardness. “Just act like I’m not here,” Sirius said, waving a hand and looking expectantly between the two of them. 

“No, definitely not,” Amelia shook her head resolutely, and Sirius huffed a quiet laugh as he tilted his head down to look at the countertop. Remus just hid his mouth behind his hand and pinned his gaze on Amelia.

“Fine, then just talk normally and save all your conversations about me until I leave? Is that better?” he suggested, cutting right to the chase.

“I can accept that treaty,” she disclosed with a small nod, her movements and speech still almost comically slowed.

“Great!” Sirius chimed a little too brightly before the two of them settled into silence, and Remus bit down on his lip because this was all hilarious and uncomfortable and confusing at the same time. Amelia shifted her focus back to the chicken sausages, dropping them into the heated pan and producing a loud sizzling sound that punctuated the matter perfectly. 

“So your mom is out of the woods now,” she started, transitioning back to her normal tone, “the nightmare is over.” 

“Fuck, I’m so relieved,” Remus muttered with conviction, rubbing his face with a hand. “It took me a while to accept that this whole thing could actually have something other than a tragic ending.”

“It’s a wonderful ending, Rem,” Amelia corrected him. “She’s going to be cancer-free, and you’re back in New York,” she added, and Sirius threw in a hum of agreement.

“Give me another month and I’ll fully believe it,” he offered, turning his mug to pick it up by the handle.

“I can understand that,” Amelia said as he took a drink. She poured the beaten eggs into the other pan she had heating. “Are you going to head back over to the hospital today?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “It sounds like she won’t be released for another couple of days at least, so I’ll probably sleep there tonight. That way, Dad can get some rest.”

“She’s lucky to have you two. She hasn’t spent a single night alone there has she?” Amelia said with a smile while she started pushing the eggs around with a spatula.

“Of course not,” Remus answered as if the question itself was ludicrous. “When she was critical, both of us slept in those shitty chairs all night. Dad just handled it better than I did because he’s older and wiser.”

Amelia laughed, “That he is, and yeah, he sent me a picture of you curled up in that chair, you looked like a daddy-long leg spider,” then leaned her forearms on the counter, bringing herself eye level with Remus. “I can’t get over how much better you look now. When I saw you at the hospital it felt like you didn’t even know I was there.”

Remus shook his head. “It was terrible. But I knew. And thank you for being there, really.”

“Of course,” she offered, pointing at him with the spatula. She turned her attention to the stove, shook some salt over the pan and gave the eggs one last scramble, before grabbing plates from the cupboard. “We’ll have to throw a little party when she recovers and gets her energy back. You know, by ‘party’ I mean calm and lowkey,” she said, doling out portions, “A Christmas movie and then concert Christmas songs as performed by Remus Lupin.”

“Yes,” Remus felt himself light up at the suggestion. “It would be so wonderful to have a celebratory Christmas of all her favorite things.”

“Agreed, we all deserve that,” Amelia chimed, turning back to the second pan on the burner, “And maybe you’ll even be inspired enough to don your Elf costume again.”

Sirius coughed. “Come again?”

“His Buddy the Elf-Pianist costume—” she offered mildly, putting sausages on the plates.

“Please stop,” Remus tried, but he knew it was futile.

“—what would be a happier occasion than your mom officially being home and healthy?”

“Wait, like tights?” Sirius cut through moderately again for further clarification.

“Yellow tights,” Amelia confirmed, eliciting the highest-pitched noise Remus had ever heard leave Sirius’ throat, and Remus lowered his head and buried his head in his hands, mumbling that it was his mom’s favorite Christmas movie, as Amelia continued unaffected, “and the long green tunic and elf hat.” 

“I feel like I’ve been robbed,” Sirius exclaimed as Amelia pushed a plateful of food in front of both of them, and Remus actually picked up on some true anguish in his voice. “Why did I never know about this?”

“You never came here for Christmas,” Remus mumbled into his hands as Amelia simultaneously threw out, waving two bottles of hot sauce in the air dramatically,, “Well of course you didn’t hear about it, you broke up with him! You didn’t deserve to experience Remus in yellow tights!” and Remus was ready to die. It was time.

The room was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and shut up now,” Sirius threw out as he shoved a massive bite into his mouth, way more than necessary, as if to keep his mouth too busy to even allow himself a choice in the matter. It was a weird moment, funny maybe, like out of a movie. Amelia burst out into laughter a second later and the two of them followed.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Meils?” Remus asked as he raised his head back up and resumed a normal upright position, only then noticing that she had prepared just two plates.

“I already did,” she waved him off as she dropped the spatula in the mixing bowl and took it to the sink full of suds, “It’s after noon, you know? I had breakfast over three hours ago.” 

“Do you want anything else?” he asked over the water she had turned on, “You already know there are a ton of options in the fridge.”

She wheeled around and looked from Remus to Sirius. “It suddenly makes sense now. You’re a genius,” she said pointedly. 

Sirius turned to Remus and back to her, seemingly lost. “What now?” 

Remus poked a sausage with his fork and gestured to the fridge. “You force-fed me,” he offered, to which Sirius hummed in understanding and flashed her a knowing smile as he chewed. 

“But no, I should get going,” she advised as she turned to wash up the cooking utensils. 

“What?” Remus asked as he dropped his fork down on his plate, sausage and all. “You just got here and made us breakfast and now you’re leaving.” 

Amelia laughed as she turned back around, “That’s exactly what I came to do. To make sure you are eating and to make sure that you texted your dad back.” Sirius nodded from his periphery as if that all made perfect sense. 

Amelia set the dishes on the drying rack and dried off her hands, walked to the table to grab her scarf, and wrapped it around her neck lightly. “Also, I promised Alex that we’d make candy cane cookies today, so I wasn’t planning to hang around here for very long anyway,” she explained as she pulled on her coat and nodded surreptitiously toward the foyer when Sirius’ attention was in the bottle of hot sauce he was uncapping.

“Okay,” Remus replied evenly, and he slid off his barstool. 

“It was good to see you again, Sirius,” Amelia supplied as she stopped next to where he was sitting at the counter.

“You too, Amelia,” he answered as he stood up and they embraced in something far too awkward to accurately be described as a ‘hug’. “You make incredible eggs.” 

“Oh my god,” Remus murmured, not sure how to handle the surrealness of it all.

“What?!” Sirius asked as he turned to look at Remus with incredulity in his voice, “Her husband and kid are lucky to have somebody who can make such fluffy eggs—“

“Well, thank you, Sirius!” Amelia said, now looking just far too pleased with herself, and Sirius shot her his finest Sirius look.

“Okay, this is all getting to be too much,” Remus asserted as he ushered Amelia out of the kitchen. 

When they were no longer in view of the bar, Amelia turned around, her face now exuding its usual expressiveness, eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief. She mouthed something that Remus picked up as ‘OH MY GOD, HE FLEW HERE TO SEE YOU?’

“Yeah, I know,” Remus said with a look on his face that suggested his mind was blown by that fact too.

“When your mom is back and settled, you’ll come over for dinner so that you can see Luke and Alex?” She said, her tone deceptively even, but she didn’t make it hard for Remus to read between the lines.

“Of course,” he said as he sent her an intense stare and nod to communicate, ‘yes I will fill you in about why my ex-boyfriend who lives in New York City came downstairs while you were making me breakfast in my parents’ house in Cleveland’. “I still need to hear Alex, the ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ prodigy.” 

“Ah yes, the pride of Cleveland,” Amelia added as she pulled Remus into a hug and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep, I’ll text you,” he assured her as she opened the front door, gave him one last wave, and pulled it closed behind her. 

When Remus walked back to the kitchen and reached to grab their plates to take to the sink, Sirius looked up from his phone with a carefree smile. “Hey Rem,” he said, “I’m going to see if I can find a flight back to New York later today.”

It was silent a beat as Remus tried to evaluate whether he’d heard him correctly. “What?” Remus eventually asked, plates still in hand. Sirius had only arrived less than 24 hours earlier. “No, you don’t have to do that,” he said with a note of concern in his voice.

Sirius wrinkled his nose in a way that Remus interpreted as disagreement, “I really should,” he countered resolutely. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

“But you’re not in the way at all,” Remus retorted bringing the plates back down to the counter, “Did you feel weird because of what Amelia said? Because you shouldn’t, she just says shit like that.”

“No, not at all,” Sirius looked up from his phone, and by the slightly amused look on his face, Remus knew he was being truthful. “You’re heading to the hospital, as you should, and your mom is going to be home soon. It really should be just the family here— an extra person would be overwhelming.”

Remus opened his mouth to counter what Sirius just said, but found that there wasn’t any good counter because Sirius was right. The problem, he realized, was that he just didn’t want Sirius to leave yet. All that seemed to be running through his head was losing whatever it was that they had gained when Sirius showed up on his driveway only half a day before. 

“I don’t necessarily want to leave you either,” Sirius continued, reading Remus’ mind again and making it difficult for him to swallow, “but I came to make sure that you were doing alright. And you are now, right?” Remus nodded and Sirius took a deep breath. “I need to go then,” he said simply.

“Okay,” Remus conceded and Sirius went back to looking at flights on his phone. “Are there any flights even available for tonight?” he asked as he loaded the plates into the dishwasher.

“Yeah, actually,” he paused for a while as he scrolled, then continued a moment later, “the main perk of being able to fly into three different airports to get to NYC. Last minute prices aren’t bad either. It’ll be a middle seat, but who cares, it’s a short flight.” He poked around on the screen for a few seconds more before adding, “Looks like flying into EWR is the best option, so I’ll just take the train to James’ and Lily’s and stay there tonight.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Remus said, his tone duller than he had meant it to be. Sirius looked up at him and his face was lined with more amusement.

“You act like you aren’t moving back to New York next month,” Sirius pointed out and Remus felt himself shake with silent laughter because, yes, that was true, but for some reason that fact didn’t crop up in his mind as relevant just then. “Maybe, and this is only a suggestion, Remus, because I know you don’t like being told what to do, but maybe don’t ignore me once you get back?”

Remus breathed a final sigh of laughter and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good,” Sirius said through a smirk, and a couple of seconds later, “I booked it. I know you probably want to head back to the hospital soon, so I’ll just head to the airport when you leave.”

“When does it take off?” Remus asked quickly.

Sirius stood up and slid his phone into his pocket. “Just before 4pm,” he offered.

“Oh, pretty soon,” Remus commented without energy, but he perked up again quickly, “Okay well let me drive you to the airport.”

“No, I’ll get another Uber, Rem,” Sirius laughed. “You have enough to worry about.”

“Sirius, it’s 25 minutes away. I’m going to drive you,” Remus said with force from the other side of the counter.

“Alright.” The side of Sirius’ mouth crooked into a smile. “Thank you.”

Remus snorted and wrapped his hands around the edge of the counter to lean against it. “‘Thank you’ says the man who flew to Cleveland and practically saved my life last night.” 

“Oh wow,” Sirius mused, his eyebrows hiking up as he leaned closer towards Remus, “then I’m really glad I flew out here if that’s the case.” 

“Yeah, well,” Remus swallowed, feeling himself becoming flustered again, probably from the way that Sirius was looking at him. “I might have frozen to death on the driveway if you hadn’t shown up or something. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sirius responded, unperturbed and clearly humored. “You felt pretty warm to me, marshmallow boy.” 

Remus coughed out a laugh. He turned to finish cleaning up, desperately wanting to give his hands something to do, and opted to take the pans over to the sink.

“I’m going to go back up to your room and get my stuff together. Maybe we should head out in twenty minutes or so? So you can get back to your mom?” Sirius asked, and Remus nodded as he turned the faucet on.

“Although I can’t even imagine what’s better,” Sirius called out as he started climbing up the stairs, “you as a yellow marshmallow or you in thin yellow elf tights,” and a moment later, “Wait, that’s just stupid. Of course I can.”

Remus lifted his hands up to his head and pulled at his hair in what could only be called abject frustration. It took everything in him not to follow Sirius up the stairs to his bedroom, to make better use of the last twenty minutes of his visit than washing dishes. If Sirius’ plan was to torment Remus like this until he finally caved into discussing their past, then it was going to work without a doubt.

Remus couldn’t wait to spend time with his mom while she was healthy, happy, and worry-free. And he also had no idea how he was going to survive the next three weeks before returning to New York.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> step right up, folks, and see that M rating…
> 
> …(it’s about damn time tho, amirite???)
> 
> Also: italicized dialogue in this chapter is spoken in French (but I didn’t want to lose the flow of it so I wrote it in English so that most readers wouldn't have to move back and forth between the story and Google translate.)

Remus got on the subway in the direction of Washington Heights, barely minding how crowded it was for the mid-afternoon because of the warm reprieve it provided from the freezing temperature outside. He’d made a grave mistake that morning by only layering up with a sweater and his lighter coat, thinking that a promised high of 37 degrees wouldn’t be that bad after becoming used to Cleveland weather again. But he was wrong, and now he was shivering on the subway dreading the moment he would arrive at his stop and have to walk the ten minutes to his new apartment. 

He leaned against one of the railings, not minding that all the seats were taken since he had been sitting for the majority of the day anyway, and pulled out his phone.

**Remus: Just got on the train, be there in 40**

**Sirius: Sounds good, I’ll probably beat you there.**

**Remus: Marlene will let you in, no need to wait. It’s fucking freezing out.**

**Sirius: Ah, I take it you left the jacket in Cleveland then?**

**Sirius: *The Jacket**

**Remus: Disappointed?**

**Sirius: Devastated. I was promised a marshmallow and now you’re telling me that all I get is a pixie stick?**

**Sirius: I’m heading right on back to Brooklyn now that I know I’ve been catfished.**

**Remus: A pixie stick?**

**Remus: I hate you.**

**Sirius: I hate me too.**

**Remus: A lot of self-loathing going on here.**

Remus exited the text thread and pulled his headphones out of his bag, putting them on before starting up that day’s episode of his favorite podcast that he hadn’t finished yet. That was the positive he could find in the 40 minute trip to and from Julliard, podcasts that pulled him out of the music world, if only for an hour and a half a day. 

The train ride went swiftly, and before Remus knew it, he was walking into his new apartment to find Marlene and Sirius sitting on the couch playing what he assumed was Nintendo 64 from the horribly outdated graphics on the screen. Their energetic yelling filled the room, too loud for them to even hear Remus enter, based on their marked lack of greeting. He closed the door softly and watched undetected as Marlene crawled across the couch and tried to wrestle the controller out of Sirius’ hand just as Princess Peach successfully crossed the bridge without falling into the icy lake, thus winning the game from what he could tell. 

“Fucking Frigid Bridges!” Marlene screamed in agony and Remus was terrified that she’d actually been stabbed somewhere along the way by how piercing the sound was. Sirius threw his hands high up into the air and whooped obnoxiously in victory, saying something about a British invasion before Marlene regained her speaking voice and retorted with something about the American Revolution and Remus didn’t understand what any of that had to do with Mario Party 3.

“Hello,” Remus spoke up, feeling immense satisfaction when Marlene screamed again and Sirius turned back with wide, shocked eyes, and straightened up.

“Remus, good to see you,” Sirius started, cadence of his voice coming out even more dignified than usual, probably to make up for the chaotic scene that Remus had just witnessed. “Would you like to join us for a friendly round of,” he paused to look back at the screen, “Eatsa Pizza?”

Remus shook with laughter as he sat his bag down on the dining table across from the kitchen. “Nah, I’ll just watch.”

“Pervert,” Remus swore that he heard Marlene whisper under her breath. He swiveled his head around and shot her an incredulous look and she sent a wink back at him in return.

“Oh kick her ass, Sirius,” Remus ordered as he walked over to the living room and sat down on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his back against it.

“I will eatsa all of the pizza,” Sirius confirmed robotically as the next round of mini-games started. 

Marlene tossed her controller down with a heavy sigh. “How was your first day back as an official New Yorker?” Marlene asked once the round had ended and they both accepted their losses to one of the computerized characters.

“Fine,” Remus shrugged, “Cold. Nothing too special, just thought I’d jump into my new routine of using Julliard’s practice rooms.”

“Sirius told me you have some performances lined up in the Northeast over the next couple of months?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, although he didn’t know why, her eyes were fixated on the TV. “A couple of Beethoven sonatas.”

“Oh, nice,” she managed before lifting a single socked foot to rest on Sirius’ knee as if that were all very typical, “Not too bad after Rach, huh?”

“Much less stressful,” Remus laughed.

“Remus eats Beethoven Sonatas for breakfast,” Sirius contributed and Remus laughed gently as he laid his head back onto the couch cushion to look up at the ceiling. “You got situated here quickly considering you only flew back here yesterday,” he added.

“Hmmm, yeah,” Remus observed as he scrubbed his nail against the seam of the couch cushion, “All I really needed was the bed and towels. I had everything delivered here while I was still in Cleveland and Marlene was wonderful about coordinating everything.” 

“It was before Jon moved out,” Marlene added, “so he slept on the new mattress for a few nights until he left for good a couple of days ago, but I’m guessing that was well worth having everything ready to go once you got here.”

“No doubt,” Remus agreed. He closed his eyes for a minute and listened to the animated sounds coming from the TV now. “How was California?” he eventually asked as he shifted his head to the left, his eyes taking Sirius fully in for the first time in nearly a month. It was a silly question, though; they’d been texting the entire time, after all, but there was something about being in front of the other man that made him ask again, if only to hear about it this time rather than read it. Sirius looked down at him with a small smile and Remus felt his heart grow two sizes before Sirius’ eyes flicked back to the screen. 

“Sunny and beautiful, filled with delicious wine and wonderful people,” Sirius paused for a moment to look back at Remus before slowing his speech down in emphasis, “and I couldn’t wait for it to be over so that I could get straight back to New York.”

“Imagine that,” Remus chimed softly.

“Really?” Marlene scoffed, clearly unimpressed, “Missed the rat infested garbage and people clipping their fingernails on the subway? Yeah, give me that over vineyards and gorgeous hiking trails any day of the week,” she snorted loudly for effect. “ _Not._ ”

“Marlene?” Sirius asked with faux-brightness, his voice an octave higher now, “Didn’t you have somewhere to be? Some plans or something? Rehearsal? A ceramics class? I don’t know, a date with Peter maybe?”

“Oh, he fucking wishes,” she scoffed, but she also paused the game to save it, so maybe Sirius was getting somewhere.

“Yeah, he really does actually,” Remus threw in for the hell of it and a few moments later, Marlene had turned off the TV and was hauling herself up from the couch.

“ _Sorry_ boys,” Marlene declared, and Remus caught on that she was addressing all the ‘boys’ in the world, not just the two in her living room, as she meandered into her room, “this lady is taking a break from the wonderful world of dating for the time being. ‘What’s she gonna do with all that free time?’ they all ask. I know everyone is dying to know.”

“What are you going to do with all that free time?!” Sirius mirrored with gusto, ever the good sport.

“A little of this, a little of that. Who’s to say though? The opportunities are endless for her now,” Marlene continued as she reemerged with her purse now in hand. “Will she start running in Central Park every morning now? Fuck no. Will she take up knitting? That’s more her style, sure, but she isn’t in a rush to make that decision yet. Will she sleep well every night in her bed knowing that the world is her oyster and she can do whatever the fuck she wants now because she’s finally true to herself? You bet your ass she will.”

“Wow,” Remus eventually reacted when a moment or two had passed after Marlene had finished her speech, “that was quite the monologue.” His statement was greeted by effortless hums of agreement from each of the other two people in the room.

“Well, off I go, I guess,” Marlene mused, back to referring to herself in first person again, then came up behind Sirius on the couch and bent down into his space, “You know how I never like to miss a _ceramics class_.” 

“Have a good time, Marls!” Sirius responded, his voice far more chipper than usual, “Bring us back a vase!” Marlene mumbled something that probably wasn’t too friendly as she walked back to the kitchen, grabbed a drink out of the fridge, then bid them goodbye and walked out of the door. 

And then they were alone. It was a moment that Remus had been looking forward to, but also dreading — emotions being the weird things that they were, and all — and as soon as the door closed behind Marlene, something in the room shifted. What had been an easy setting for effortless banter only five minutes ago was now producing a lump in Remus’ throat the size of a fucking grapefruit. His fingers became suddenly intrigued by the carpet, and he fixated on the tiny strands of shag as the next moment passed in complete silence. 

“Hello,” Sirius said first. 

Remus gazed up to him to see a lazy smile on his face. “Hello.”

Sirius clicked his tongue. “So how about the weather?”

Remus snorted, and not only because the weather was obviously shit that day, then craned his head back slowly to look at him. “You’re asking me about the weather?” he recited in a demure monotone voice from upside down.

“Noooooooooo, foul ball, do not do it,” Sirius shouted after a sudden bark of laughter, reaching to throw a couch pillow at Remus, who had been reduced to merely a puddle of amusement that effectively dislodged the grapefruit from his throat for the time being.

Remus punctuated his laugh with a long, drawn-out sigh and hugged the couch pillow to his chest, then it was silent for a beat. And a beat more. “I’ll just wait for you to begin,” he heard Sirius say from where he was nestled comfortably at the corner of the couch, the bastard.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Remus admitted after a moment.

Sirius hummed. “Well, do you want to sit on the couch?”

“No,” Remus answered quickly with a strong shake of his head. It was going to be far easier like this, when Sirius wasn’t in his direct line of sight. 

“Alright,” Sirius responded, “just say whatever pops into your head. Like I’m not even here.” And then he fell completely silent and Remus knew that the floor was his when he wanted it. 

But it stayed quiet. Remus stayed quiet. Sirius, who had never been quiet for a minute in his life, was quiet. And fuck, why was this apartment so quiet? It was in Manhatten for fuck’s sake. Weren’t there always ambulances whizzing by? Or angry taxi cab drivers honking away? There should have at least been somebody yelling outside about the terrible goddamn traffic. The refrigerator eventually hummed, and Remus felt a pang of affection for the lifeless appliance, the only ally he had in the moment. He groaned and opened his mouth, hoping that whatever came out would curb the anxiety he had built up so high in his head.

“I wish you would have done it earlier,” he heard himself say.

“Talked about breaking up?” Sirius clarified, and he must have seen Remus nod minutely because he continued on then, “It took me a long time to realize that it was what I wanted.”

Remus dropped his head back on the cushion but thought better of it when he realized that position allowed him to see Sirius from his periphery and lifted it again. “When I looked back at everything, it was so apparent that you had checked out once you got that offer from the Philharmonic,” Remus said, his gaze finding purchase on the crown molding lining the perimeter of the room, giving his eyes something to do, “that was the moment you shifted away from me, I could actually feel it, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. And I wish you would have just gotten it over with sooner.”

Sirius was silent, and after a second more, the hum of the refrigerator dropped off too, and it was just Remus on his own.

“But you never brought it up,” he continued, “And the thing is, it didn’t change a thing for me — whether you were going to join me in Europe or stay in New York — so I didn’t bring it up either. Sure, one scenario was easier and one scenario was more difficult, but it didn’t change what I wanted.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision, Remus, I felt such a pull in both directions,” Sirius explained. “And yes, the timing was shit in every way, and I really regret that I didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“But I think you did,” Remus corrected, only narrowing his eyes but not moving them from their spot, “I think you knew when you turned down the offer in Berlin and then you spent the last couple of months trying to placate me before I left.”

“Is that what you think? That I was ‘placating’ you? No. Fuck, give me some credit here,” Sirius retorted, “I _loved_ being with you, Remus. And that last summer we were together, it wasn’t like ‘I’m going to just stay with Remus for a while so I can get what I want from him and then dump him right before he leaves—‘”

“That’s exactly what happened, though,” Remus cut in dully.

“You have to understand that I didn’t know what I was going to do until the moment I figured it out,” Sirius said, and Remus knew he was running a hand through his hair. “I was 22 and I had no idea how to deal with it all. I loved you, every moment we spent together, even when it was just lying around in our apartment, but I knew I wanted to experience other things too. I don’t know, it was confusing, Remus.” Remus stayed quiet and just bent his leg at the knee, resting his forearm on it, waiting impatiently for, and wanting to bypass whatever else was next, all at once. “A big part of me knew that trying to maintain a long distance relationship with you would have made me _miserable_. But when we were together, still in New York, everything was great. I would just stare at you sometimes and think, ‘I can’t give this up. I can’t give _him_ up, can I?’ But those days right before you left… that’s when I made my decision. I wasn’t trying to drag you along the months before.” 

Remus felt his eyebrow twitch at that. “Do you think it was the right decision?” he asked, only vaguely surprised at himself for asking outright, and so soon in this dreaded exchange.

Sirius took in a slow, full breath. “I do,” he finally said, “I know Europe was such an exciting idea to you, but the idea of even visiting wasn’t to me. There aren’t any good memories for me on that side of the world, which is in stark contrast to New York. And I wanted you, but I wanted to date other people too. I wanted to experience other things. I didn’t _want_ to want that, but I did. And I would have kept wanting that had we broken up or not, so what I did was the fairest thing for both of us. That didn’t make me a bad person and it didn’t mean that anything was wrong with you.”

“You didn’t even want to try, though?” he said, shocking himself again by glancing over his shoulder at Sirius, “I couldn’t imagine myself without you and you didn’t even want to try.”

“No I didn’t, not like that,” Sirius said bluntly and met Remus’ eyes dead-on. “Living on different continents? I would have fucked it up so quickly, and you would have hated me far more than you ever have in the past. It would have doomed us.” Remus wheeled his head back around.

“What are you even talking about? Didn’t not trying doom us pretty well on its own?” Remus asked the space in front of him, with a similar level of confusion he’d feel if Sirius were speaking another language.

Sirius rolled his eyes back up the ceiling and laughed softly for a beat before presumably looking back at Remus. He couldn’t tell, and he was glad for it. “I mean, we are sitting here right now, aren’t we?” he asked rhetorically. “Long distance would have been impossible for me back then, and that night, I wanted to believe your move was a sign our relationship had run its course. I know the timing was complete shit, and I’m so, so sorry for that. But once I realized there wasn’t another choice for me, I didn’t want to drag it out and break up over fucking Skype or whatever when you were thousands of miles away.” 

Remus bit at the inside of his lip and got re-interested in the carpet, not sure of what his response should be to all of this information. It made sense in hindsight, it did, but it was hard to reconcile with the other more visceral part of him that thought Sirius was full of shit and that none of this was worth talking about, and he wondered with a certain force why the hell he had agreed to this in the first place.

“What?” Sirius asked, as if his ears were psychically burning.

“I don’t know,” Remus said more sharply than he meant to. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It doesn’t seem like you believe me on this,” Sirius said with a note of feigned surprise, spot-on in his assessment of Remus’ internal state as usual, and he was glad Sirius couldn’t see him roll his eyes from that vantage point.

Remus chose not to comment and plowed on instead, “So did you ever regret it? At all?”

“You know I don’t think like that. I make decisions and then I move forward,” Sirius said, and the truth of that Remus like a freight train, exactly what he’d always known Sirius would say, no sign of the fantasy-land answer Remus had indulgently hoped for. “I completely regret how I handled it, I regret that however I made you feel led you to completely dissociate from all of us,” he charged on, “And I missed you. All the time. Every day, probably. But I don’t regret that we broke up. I needed that time and those experiences, but I always missed you.”

Remus huffed a dark sound, the contradictions overwhelming. “That’s nearly impossible for me to understand, you realize,” he said in too light of a voice.

“Really?” Sirius asked with a hint of something like frustration. “What doesn’t make sense to you?”

He shook his head in his own show of frustration. “There was just,” Remus started, “an _ease_ to it for you, some way that breaking up was this great relief when it was the sheer opposite for me, and that’s how I have always felt about the whole thing, and that’s why I dreaded ever seeing you again.” He licked his lips and felt his heart thrumming faster, but it felt good in some way, like some tight knot in his chest was metabolizing, and he suddenly wanted to get it all out. “You got what you wanted and no blowback, it was a clean break, you’ve no real regrets except for how you made me _feel,_ which, I’m sorry, but,” and he shrugged a shoulder and huffed as if that meant next to nothing, “and really, Sirius, it’s all just as I expected; why are we talking about this, what good is it d—“

“Not regretting the decision is not the same as saying it didn’t hurt like mad to lose you,” Sirius cut in, “And Remus, I lost you in as abrupt of a way as you lost me. I mean, the way you reacted that night — it felt like you _agreed_ with me. You all but outright said it, and I don’t think I’m crazy here — that you thought we should end it, too, like it was mutual.” Remus felt his body react to that total inaccuracy, but the memory of Sirius sitting him down at the couch that night, of the conversation that followed, of Remus’ expert, practiced level of dissociation when Sirius told him, ran through his mind, and maybe, even just for a moment, he could understand how things could have come off as ‘mutual’. He came back to the present as Sirius said, “You have to know, somewhere in you, that what came after completely destroyed me.”

Remus found that his vocal cords had gone slack, and all he could do was close his eyes right then. He heard Sirius’ voice continue on with some undercurrent of dark amusement after a moment, “I had it all worked out in my mind how everything would go, you know? But you found a way to surprise me.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked quietly, opening his eyes again.

“I guess I should have known when you were gone before I woke up the next morning.” Sirius paused, and Remus wondered if he had it in him to chance a look at him. Evidently he didn’t. “But I never thought that that was the last conversation we were going to have with each other.” 

Remus got out, “What was the point, Sirius? You had already made up your mind, and I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. How would it have benefitted either of us for me to stick around any longer, even if you’d thought it was mutual?”

Sirius was quiet for a moment before he answered, tone carefully even and measured, “I can see where you’re coming from, but are you ready to listen to my perspective about it?”

Remus clicked his tongue, realized that was a petty knee-jerk response, and cleared his throat instead. “Of course I am,” Remus answered a few moments later, and he realized he actually meant it as the words left his mouth.

Sirius blew out a long breath of air. “I thought we were going to talk again in the morning,” he started, “Our conversation from the night before sat so awfully with me; I didn’t know what I was expecting and I didn’t know exactly how to read you, but you would barely look at me. You just shut me out immediately,” he snapped his fingers, “I remember it very vividly. You said you were going to bed after I tried to insist that we talk about it, or at least the logistics of getting the rest of your stuff to you, and then you shut yourself in the bedroom. The only reason that I allowed myself to fall asleep on the couch that night was because I knew you were leaving on a red-eye the next day. I never would have guessed that I’d wake up and you’d be fucking gone with some bullshit note left on the counter saying that you didn’t want your _things_.” 

Remus’ expression was stoic as he said simply, “I already had everything I needed; and there was nothing else I needed to hear from you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sirius clipped back, and his voice bit harshly through the air, “we were together for four years, Remus. We lived together for two. I woke up next to you almost every single morning that entire time.” Sirius’ voice sounded like it needed a clearing or two when he continued on, “At the very least you could have said goodbye to me. It’s not like I would have fought you on it if you really wanted to leave before you had to.”

“It’s hard to grasp why hearing me say ‘goodbye, hope you have a nice life’ would even matter to you at that point,” Remus got out, barely holding back some jab about cake and eating it too.

“I know it’s ridiculous to you that I could care about you _and_ not feel equipped for a relationship spanning two continents, you’ve made that clear many _many_ times. But let me assure you, you’re wrong there,” Sirius said with some force, “You weren’t the only one hurting, Remus. And you wouldn’t even let me know that you were okay.” 

Remus was quiet for a while, letting Sirius’ words sink in, and he crossed his arms. “I eventually answered James’ texts,” he said minutely. 

“That’s right,” Sirius carried on, “What was it, again? ‘I’ll miss you James, but we’re over and now I just need to move on. Good luck with everything.’?”

His stomach did an impressive flip right then. “How do you remember that,” Remus huffed, barely audible. 

“I know you can’t believe I could possibly give a shit enough to remember any of it,” Sirius said evenly, but Remus could read the faux-patience for what it was, “we’ve been over that multiple times—“

“It’s how I’ve viewed it for seven years, Sirius, for better or for worse,” Remus sighed tiredly, not knowing exactly what he was entitled to feel now in that moment. Was he still angry? Scorned? Did he suddenly feel guilty for leaving without a word after Sirius ended things? Remus struggled to see that he had owed Sirius anything that night, or any time after. And yet, sitting there with him, hearing him recount it, he did feel _something_ that vaguely resembled remorse. “I was 22 then too, and I didn’t know if I could stay in that fucking apartment even a day longer.”

“I know. I know you, and I get it,” Sirius said quietly, “But I don’t know what else I have to do to get it into your head that I care about you, Remus, that it wasn’t all the scam that you have made it out to be in your head.”

A minute passed in silence before Remus shifted to bring his other knee up. “So tell me about it then?” he asked eventually.

“Tell you about what?” Sirius clarified suspiciously.

The corner of Remus’ mouth quirked up and he leaned his head back to rest against the couch, closing his eyes. “I’m just getting this strange intuition that the image I conjured up of you out living your best life the moment I got on that plane isn’t exactly right.” He heard Sirius sigh, and it sounded like relief. It probably was, Remus imagined.

“What did you picture exactly?” Sirius asked with a faint laugh. “Maybe that’s a good place to start so that I can begin to reconstruct your dubiously flawed thinking.”

Remus kept his eyes shut as he let the image unfold. “Um,” he started, “I certainly didn’t think you were in mourning. Maybe you were sad at first, like everybody is after a breakup, but I thought you’d move on fairly quickly and I would just become that one guy you dated in college or something.” Remus paused when he heard an exhale of laughter, but continued a beat later, “I figured you’d been thinking about this a long time and you felt weightless after. I imagine that you dated around, quite a lot since it would be easy for you, let’s be real here.” Remus stopped to laugh awkwardly at that comment, as if humor would help with the seriousness of this conversation, but went quiet again when Sirius didn’t seem to find it funny at all. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Sirius,” Remus started again, tone more sober now. “I tried not to think about it that much— self-preservation again, you understand. I assumed that you moved on quickly, that as soon as you craved any sort of companionship, you were able to find it. I always thought that we had something really special; I had never felt anything close to it before, but I didn’t think that that was as much the case for you. I knew you would keep creating incredible music and keep blowing everyone in New York City away. You were never not going to be successful, and I figured that I wouldn’t take up any of your thoughts once I was out of sight.” 

“Okay,” Sirius started slowly after a long pause, probably absorbing the spiral that Remus had just led him down. “I did date around after you left. There was definitely a void I felt after our breakup. I missed you, but I figured that was a normal reaction after four years and all. I thought that ‘dating’, I guess we’ll call it, would be one way to move forward and take my mind off of missing you, about wondering how you were doing in Paris and if you loved it there as much as you always thought you would. A part of me felt great that I was single — not because it meant I got to hook up with other guys, which is probably what you are thinking — but because I felt like we were both on our own separate journeys that were perfect for each of us. There was nothing hanging over me in that regard.” 

Remus took what he hoped was an inaudible deep breath and Sirius continued, “But another part of me had a very difficult time coping with how everything ended up playing out between us. You left in the middle of the night, you blocked my calls, you ended up blocking James and even Lily eventually, which, honestly, Remus... Lily? Come on, even you had to know that she would have played it neutral. I knew that if I ever tried to reach out to you in any other way you would do the same thing. _Me_ act like you never existed? No way, mate. It was the other way around.” 

“It was the only way that I could cope, Sirius,” Remus answered, his voice small. Sirius hummed, and it finally clicked for Remus that Sirius could probably understand why he had acted the way he did. Perhaps that was why he had been so frustrated that Remus couldn’t do the same for him. Maybe it wasn’t about either side being right — that would be impossible to determine anyway — but rather about understanding how a broken relationship could profoundly hurt both parties involved, even if they felt it in different ways.

Remus was taken out of his thoughts by a light laugh that sounded out of place. “There was even a time, about eight months after you left,” Sirius started again, voice hesitant, “that I almost booked a flight to Paris to go see you, to force you to have some sort of conversation with me. But James talked me out of it.”

Remus’ breath hitched, probably at the unrealized image of Sirius strolling into his class years ago unannounced. “What, really?” Remus asked with surprise, eyes darting over to the arm of the couch on the side where Sirius was sitting, but not daring to look back completely.

Sirius hummed again, voice sounding amused. “He talked me through it and convinced me that it wasn’t the right thing to do. He explained that I made the decision to end the relationship, which is something that you made clear that you didn’t want, but you accepted it. And then you made your decision to shut us all out, and that was something that I needed to learn to accept, even though it was, and I truly mean this Remus, the _last thing_ I ever wanted to happen.”

“He’s wiser than he looks, that one,” Remus said, trying to temper the unmistakable affection in his voice as he picked at a hole forming in his jeans.

“He has these moments, you know? He goes around in life letting you believe he’s this complete orangutan most of the time, but then out of nowhere he will surprise the shit out of everyone by saying the most insightful bloody thing you’ve ever heard in your entire fucking life,” Sirius supplied, almost in awe, and Remus nodded.

“He comes in clutch,” Remus offered, not missing the opportunity for a moments’ reprieve from the much heavier conversation they were in.

“Exactly,” Sirius laughed softly. “He helped me so much, to sort out everything that was going on in my head. I felt utterly insane so many days, and it didn’t always manifest in the obvious way of pining for you or being frustrated with you for cutting off every line of communication. It would come out in stupid ways, like blowing up at James for not asking good questions about my compositions, which is obviously unfair on so many levels, or, I don’t know, deciding to mix up all the contacts in his phone because I felt moody and bored.” At that Remus felt a burst of laughter escape his throat, and Sirius followed it with his own for a couple of seconds before concluding, “I’d just never gone through a breakup before, and I’d certainly never been in love with anyone before you.”

“I’m glad he was there for you. I was always glad you had him, really, _even_ when he broke my nose,” Remus conceded.

Sirius sighed, and this time Remus could pick up on his smile even though he couldn’t see it, and then he routed the conversation back to where it had been before. “And then Alphard passed. That was a little less than a year and a half after you had left—“

“And you flew to London,” Remus offered, referring to their conversation back in his room in Cleveland. 

“I did. And I was more at peace with you cutting off all contact. I mean, I wasn’t happy about it, but that was around when I was learning to accept other people’s decisions with more maturity, so it just _was_ ,” Sirius explained, and then his voice richened melodically as he continued, “But just imagine my surprise when I was drearily plodding around London, wishing for the day I could return to my dearest Brooklyn, and I received a text from James with a certain screenshot from Facebook.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and felt the gears turning in his brain for about 30 seconds before he figured out what Sirius could possibly be referencing. 

His jaw suddenly went slack. “No way,” he accused as it began to sink in.

“Mhm,” Sirius countered lusciously. “ _Yes way._ ‘Remus Lupin performing Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Liszt in Cadogen Hall,’” Sirius recited perfectly, as if he had read it a hundred times, “at the same fucking time that I just happen to be in London,” he added, tone returning to normal. “And I thought, ‘Oh! This must be a sign, right?’”

“You were there,” Remus stated with such directness that it could barely be called a question. He already knew the answer. He remembered that performance, and he remembered that the air around him had felt familiar for a reason he had never been able to put his finger on, seeing as it was his first time in London and in that hall.

“I was there,” Sirius mirrored. “The Chopin Nocturne in D-Flat Major was particularly dreamy if I am remembering correctly. The Tempest was special as well, but Un Sospiro was probably the pinnacle, because Liszt has always been your favorite and that has always been evident in the way that you play.” 

“Wow,” Remus managed to respond moments later at the tail-end of a deep breath, once he had allowed his mind to lead him back through the memories of that particular night.

“I had every intention of finding a way to speak with you after the performance when I got there. I’d planned to wait outside the back of the building, or sneak my way backstage, or do whatever it took to find out where you were staying,” Sirius explained, “But then when I saw you performing, it was a very odd experience for me.”

“What made it odd?” Remus asked, finding himself hanging onto every word of Sirius’ answer.

“It was you up there, the same Remus that I was waking up next to only 18 months earlier, that would pull himself out of sleep in the middle of the night to hear me ramble on about my next idea because I needed his input and encouragement so badly. But, the thing is, you weren’t mine anymore. You were up on stage performing with confidence and doing everything you ever set out to do, and that really struck a chord in me,” Sirius’ voice sounded softly. “Because nothing had changed about my decision, you see. I still didn’t think a romantic relationship between us at that time was a good idea, no matter how much seeing you reinforced the fact that when we were together, I loved every minute of it. It would have been unbelievably selfish to show up out of the blue when I still didn’t want what you wanted and to force you to interact with me again.”

“You’re right,” Remus confirmed, imagining the person he was back then when he’d played in London, and how much he had still thought about Sirius against his will. “That would have been extremely painful for me.”

“That was another thing that James had coached me on, actually, but I don’t think I fully appreciated it until I saw you there in London.” Sirius paused to exhale slowly before continuing, and Remus wondered if he was taking his time to choose his words wisely. “He suggested that I shouldn’t ever try to reach out to you, or make any sort of effort to reconnect until I was ‘really ready to be the man that Remus deserves.’”

“Oh,” Remus managed to get out, which was impressive considering that he felt as if he had just been punched straight in the gut. 

“Yeah,” Sirius laughed.

Remus wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, not yet, and made the quick decision to put it to the side while he addressed some of the other things that had been said. “It makes sense. And at the time, it was easier to vilify you for breaking my heart. But it’s easier to see the complexity now,” he threw out rather neutrally, feeling a bit sick as he navigated around the elements of what Sirius had just said that hit him like a bomb.

If Sirius was frustrated by the deflection, his voice hid it well, and he asked easily, “But you do think it was better for you too, don’t you?”

Remus hummed noncommittally. “It’s hard to say. Probably. I’ll never know what it would have been like had you made a different decision. But I know that it wouldn’t have been easy like I’d fantasized it would have been,” he said, “And like I said before, I knew it wasn’t what you wanted but I didn’t admit it. I would have been obsessively worried if the relationship was enough for you, if I was enough for you so far away.”

“You would have put our relationship before your piano,” Sirius added softly.

“I would have,” Remus confirmed with a small sad smile and a light huff of laughter. “Was it that obvious? That I loved you too much?”

“It was never too much,” Sirius said, and his voice sounded far-away. “Why do you say that?”

Remus didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes because he knew that Sirius wasn’t going to make a joke about it when they were in the middle of this conversation, and he looked back at him knowingly. “You know what I mean.” 

“No, I really don’t,” Sirius assured.

Remus angled his body slightly so his side rested against the couch, gearing up to elaborate on something he felt particularly right about. “I was just some gangly kid from Cleveland who had only kissed one other guy during some stupid high school party, and that was the sexual pinnacle of my life until you strode into my practice room, looking exactly like every male-interested human’s teenage dream. And then you are some kind of musical genius? _Fuck me,”_ Remus said and choked out a light laugh. “I was in love. Immediately.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short there, Rem.” Sirius wrinkled his nose and smiled in a way that made Remus want to roll his eyes yet again, but he always had that reaction in response to a compliment, and he turned his body back around. 

“No, I’m not saying I’m not talented,” he explained, scrubbing a hand over his face to rest over his eye for a moment, “I’m saying that you were a dream to me, one that I couldn’t fathom entirely, because I never even imagined that someone as wonderful as you would exist for me.” Remus laughed softly because it sounded so immature and was once again relieved that he couldn’t see Sirius’ face. But it was okay, it was easier now to speak somehow. “I know, it’s ridiculous, but I was 18 and you were the most magnificent thing I’d ever seen. And then you were interested in me, and we had this relationship that was just—”, and Remus laughed because there really were no words, and Sirius chuckled back, and he thought he’d gotten his meaning across, so he went on, “I didn’t know how to calibrate my feelings, and even if I was far more in love with you than you were with me then, I wasn’t going to complain about it.”

“I was very much in love with you,” Sirius countered unflinchingly.

“I know that,” Remus tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling again. “I think I _knew_ that, but I wasn’t surprised when you wanted to end things. I was heartbroken but I also must have been relieved in some way. Relieved and completely unencumbered, with nothing to put myself into except the piano.” 

It was quiet for a while, but it was a comfortable quiet, and Remus let his eyes fall closed as he assumed that both of them were in their own thoughts. Remus understood that they had been young when they were together, that his emotions were more raw back then, and that he had probably put too much into the relationship than was healthy for a young guy in his early twenties. That he probably expected too much out of Sirius, too, more than he was ready to give at the time.

“But what you said to me in Cleveland, about you staying in the States? Right before you kissed me?” Sirius’ voice broke the silence, but it sounded a little broken itself, “I don’t know if you were only saying that because you were running on empty or if it’s been in the back of your mind all this time… but you’ve got to know you made the right decision, right? You had to go.”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “I think so, yeah. Maybe not in that moment, you know? But I know.” 

“You have always been too incredible to hold yourself back for anybody else, and nothing would have changed the fact that it wasn’t the right time for me either,” Sirius elaborated.

“Yes,” Remus confirmed, “that one I figured out over the years.” 

Sirius hummed before saying, tone unreadable, “But there was a huge error in my thinking back then — something I’ve figured out over the years’ too.”

“What was that?” Remus asked, brows furrowing as his eyes floated straight ahead.

“I thought that our relationship was normal. I thought that all relationships were as effortless and natural as what we had,” Sirius said, and if Remus felt his heart plummet down into the floor right then, he hid it. “We were so young when we got together that I had nothing else to compare it to. I’d completely taken our connection for granted and didn’t realize it until years later.” 

“Really?” Remus said, consciously forcing his voice to come out at more than a whisper, for how familiar that statement felt to his own ears and how it felt to hear it mirrored by the other man.

“Yes, really. At first it was fun to date around casually, but eventually, everybody wants a real connection, don’t they? And it’s easy to find someone you want to hook up with, it’s New York City, the opportunities are everywhere,” Sirius explained, talking on flippantly, “Easy to keep the distraction up.”

“Right,” Remus agreed, because even he knew that. It had been that way with Andrew — easy, stress-free, and casual despite the fact that Remus, up until that point, had always felt like the most awkward date to ever exist, usually more likely to spend the night at his piano than go out to meet an attractive stranger.

“But I was surprised to find when I started wanting something more meaningful than that, it was a lot harder to find,” Sirius elaborated, and Remus found it a little difficult to swallow just then because he knew that to be true as well. He was painfully aware of it as a matter of fact; so aware of it that he had made a pact with himself years ago to not even look for it -- a pact for the sake of his own self-preservation -- which is why when Andrew had asked in December when he’d be back in New York, Remus responded with a vague answer that conveniently left out the fact that he would be back in January, permanently.

“I didn’t realize how impossible it would be to find someone who can actually appreciate my new age atonal music while also performing the absolute hell out of classical on world stages,” Sirius started with faux seriousness and Remus snorted, tipping his head back on the couch in amusement, for they both knew that particular combination of traits didn’t exist in spades, “Just an absolute shock, who would have known?” Remus returned his gaze forward and nodded with a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. Sirius continued a moment later, jocular tone cast aside, “Someone who would engage with me about my work and inspire me to be better; who my friends would love to be around, far more than they want to be around me; someone who understands my sense of humor while also not being afraid to keep my arse in line when I’m not being serious enough.”

Remus sighed and felt the time had come to face him now, so he pushed himself up onto the couch, next to Sirius. “No, I’d imagine that that would be difficult,” he said, and he lolled his head around to look at the other man.

“Indeed,” Sirius agreed, searching Remus’ face, the corners of his mouth curling up, “I’ve never met another guy who looked so fucking fit in tight gray cigarette jeans who would also tolerate James and I consistently planting blue razzmatazz slurpees around his room—”

“Oh my god, how could I have forgotten about that!” Remus exclaimed and he found it difficult to take his eyes off of Sirius’ beaming smile and his sharp canines. “The most disgusting artificial drink ever created — which, by the way there is no such thing as a blue raspberry, what a load of bullshit — showing up when I least expected it,” he said and then snorted involuntarily and had to hide behind his hand while he laughed at the memory, “You fucking… you planted one in the fucking shower when I reached for my shampoo and it spilled all over me—“

“I remember the screams so fondly,” Sirius reminisced proudly, bumping his knee against Remus’ as he recovered and leaned back again against the couch, getting ready to be attentive again. Sirius plowed forward then, “And I’ve never met another guy who could also speak French with me, on top of everything else.” He paused for a moment, and Remus was sure that his gaze somehow became even more intense than before, even though he had barely moved at all, “And you know, I haven’t really spoken it in seven years. Sometimes I worry that I’ve lost most of it.”

Remus bantered back quickly, “Oh I’m sure it would come back to you pretty quickly in the right situation.” He bit his lip immediately after hearing what he had just said, hoping to stop the heat on his face from becoming completely apparent. He wasn’t sure what was getting into him. Something about all these walls between them starting crumble — surely it had something to do with that.

Sirius hummed a low sound. “It’s even harder to make that kind of emotional connection along with that physical connection, too, where you want to slam them against a wall whenever you‘re in the same room,” Sirius spoke infuriatingly mildly, and Remus knew that there was no hiding the what was written all across his face, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. “Apparently that doesn’t happen all that often, Remus,” Sirius concluded, his eyes scanning Remus’ face.

“No?” Remus asked, not even embarrassed by how breathless the word sounded coming out of his mouth.

“No,” Sirius confirmed with a slow shake of his head. The corner of his mouth lifted more, and he let out an amused exhale through his nose right before he continued, “You know, I told Marlene about a year ago that if I ever got another chance with you — if the stars aligned and the universe saw fit to bring us back together and all that bullshit jargon — it would be the greatest thing to ever happen to me,” he raised his eyebrows, “And then a couple of weeks later, Minerva announced that you’d be in New York playing Rach 3.” He rested his hand on the couch between them and the measured tone of his voice carried delicately through the air between them, “and now here we are, sitting together in your Manhattan apartment after you kissed me on your parents’ couch a month ago, and I just can’t shake the feeling that maybe everything that happened between us makes sense, that this was exactly how it was supposed to go all along.” 

There it was, the tipping point. The elusive moment — so hard to notice when it’s happening — that minuscule blip in time that marks when something has finally shifted past the point of no return. Remus felt his eyes widen, and the thought flashed through his mind that Sirius must be thinking they were the size of baseballs or something stupid like that; he wasn’t sure what he was thinking or that he was capable of thought, but he felt his breathing decrescendo as Sirius’ words sunk in deeper and deeper each time they echoed in his brain, and he knew in the core of his being that there was something to that perspective.

“Remus?” Sirius’ voice pulled him out of whatever trance he’d descended into, and Remus wasted no more time before leaning forward to capture Sirius’ lips against his own in answer. Sirius responded quickly, just like he had last time, and Remus was grateful that Sirius hadn’t masked his feelings since they had been reunited. He was patient, put the ball in Remus’ court, so to speak, but Remus never had to second guess what the other man wanted after the night of the opening performance, and the very thought of that made Remus breathless all on its own.

Sirius’ right hand moved to splay against his lower back, and the other to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as their lips fell together in perfect rhythm. Remus leaned into Sirius at first, letting him take the lead and melting into his embrace as his senses were overwhelmed by the touch of his hands, the press of his body, the smell of leather and spruce that had somehow always lingered on Sirius’ skin no matter how far away his jacket and violin were. And even though the slide of Sirius’ tongue against his own threatened to send Remus careening over the edge of sanity, he quickly assessed that being this close still wasn’t close enough. 

Deciding to remedy that, Remus’ arms wrapped themselves around Sirius’ back and he leaned his body down along the length of the couch, using his grip to pull Sirius along with him. He landed flat against the cushions, and his body arched up as Sirius followed him down eagerly, his hands immediately diving underneath Remus’ shirt and sliding up the length of his sides, thumbing along his rib bones that were protruding with each ragged intake of breath.

Remus tried to follow his lead, not breaking their kiss as he dropped his hands lower along Sirius’ back to find a way to access the skin underneath his shirt. But Sirius had other ideas, pulling away from Remus’ mouth and wriggling down the length of torso, stopping halfway to push his shirt as high up Remus’ body as his arms would allow. Sirius took his time kissing along every dip and groove of his hip, his abdomen, then chest, all while his hands never stopped caressing or stroking him in one way or another; his gray eyes always finding their way back to Remus’, except for the moments when Remus had to close his own in seek of reprieve, as the sight of this man’s lips attached to his skin was far too much to manage for long.

Sirius eventually lifted his lips from Remus’ sternum, and Remus read his face and lifted his body slightly so Sirius could pull the shirt over his head, and he tossed it in some direction that Remus was far too preoccupied to note. Remus used the newfound space that was between them to grab at the hem of Sirius’ shirt, and Sirius lifted his own arms, and a moment later Remus sighed hoarsely as Sirius’ bare skin was finally pressed against his own. The moment became instantly heightened and, by the desperate movement of his lips against Remus’ neck and the sound of his frenzied breathing — mixed with broken moans and soft gasps — Remus knew that whatever he was feeling had transcended just himself and that Sirius undoubtedly felt it too.

“Do you want to go to my room?” Remus muttered as he tilted his head back and arched his body up against Sirius’ with as much force as he could muster in this position. He desperately meant the question that he had asked, both literally and as a suggestion that this move beyond the confines of what they were doing now.

Sirius pulled himself up slowly, hands planted on either side of Remus’ head; he looked down at Remus intently, eyes attentively surveying his face. Remus looked back up at him with a sureness he knew he was communicating with every single fiber of his being, just as he thought that Sirius at every angle was breathtaking, but particularly when his face was framed by those curtains of jet black hair. Remus raised his hand to the side of Sirius’ face and carded his hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear so he could run his eyes along the hard angles of his cheekbones next, and let his fingertips trace the outline of his jaw. Sirius’ pupils had blown even darker by then, and after a moment, satisfied enough with Remus’ answer, he nodded and wrangled his body around Remus and off of the couch. Remus took advantage of the seconds of respite and felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed in deeply, then he took Sirius’ outstretched hand and pulled his own body into a standing position as well.

As soon as Remus started walking in the direction of the bedroom, he felt arms envelope him from behind, and Sirius pushed him forward while also pulling him back against his body. Remus placed his hands on top of Sirius’ which were resting low on his hips, his thumbs just barely tucked beneath his waistband; Sirius moved step-in-step with Remus as they navigated the short distance to the bedroom, and when they were fully inside, used his foot to kick the door shut behind them.

“Are you sure about this?” Sirius mumbled again against Remus’ ear before kissing softly at his pulse point and then moving lower, each kiss more sure than the one before it, his hands grasping at Remus’ hips harder now. Remus was grateful to his former self for already having made that decision before they started touching, because there was no way the answer could ever have been ‘no’, not with Sirius’ lips hovering across the skin of his shoulder now.

He exhaled slowly and pressed his body back against the other man. “I’m sure,” he answered without a hint of reservation, and Sirius wasted no time before gliding his hands along the waistband of his jeans and working the button and zipper open.

The rest of Remus’ clothes were discarded quickly, Sirius made impressively graceful work of that, and before he could even gather his thoughts, Sirius was pushing him over to the edge of the bed, kneading his fingers firmly into Remus hips and setting every nerve on fire. 

“I want you from behind,” Sirius whispered into his ear, and Remus was sure that his knees buckled right then and there and Sirius’ grip was the only thing still keeping him upright, “I want you pressed against me, I want to hear every sound that leaves your mouth when I’m inside of you.” Remus groaned some desperate sound that made Sirius run his hand unhurriedly down the length of his spine and press his forehead to the back of Remus’ neck, and Remus hoped he was communicating that in that moment all he really knew was that he would do whatever Sirius wanted. 

“Okay,” Remus managed to breathe as he crawled forward to position himself on the bed, kneeling at the front and facing the wall, with his hands holding on to the headboard in front of him. It didn’t take but a couple of seconds before Remus felt Sirius move into place directly behind him, thighs pressed against his own. He ran his hands down the length of Remus’ arms, reverently slow, to eventually grasp gently around his wrists, and he used his position to pull Remus up flush against him.

“ _Is this still okay_?” Sirius whispered up against Remus’ ear, and Remus shivered from both the question and the feel of Sirius’ breath against his neck, but the words themselves were what sent his stomach down through the floor. Maybe Sirius had barely spoken French over the last seven years, but it was still fucking perfect anyway. Effortless and seductive, just like everything else about him had always seemed to be.

“Yeah, yeah it’s good,” Remus only barely managed to breath out, his voice rather choked now, that lump in his throat back with a vengeance.

“ _Yeah?”_ Sirius asked again, teeth grazing his clavicle.

“ _Yes, with you, always okay like this,_ ” Remus enunciated perfectly. He knew that his French accent had greatly improved in the last seven years, and he knew that Sirius knew it too, even without the groan that he heard as soon as the words left his lips.

“Fuck, Remus,” Sirius sighed quietly as his hands began gliding up and down Remus’ long torso, movements growing hungrier with each repetition gone by, as he kissed his jaw from behind.

Remus leaned back hard against Sirius, as if to reassure him, to encourage him, and Sirius took the hint quickly. Not surprising as Sirius had always been one step ahead of knowing what Remus wanted when it came to anything physical. He was more reserved now, perhaps out of respect, but Remus figured, and hoped, that his hesitance would quickly dissolve. 

One hand moved further down his hip, resting at the top of his thigh, as the other one began to circle back, grazing his waist and landing along the side of his ass, fingers kneading into muscle. Remus leaned his head back against Sirius’ shoulder, neck bared, eyes closed, and feeling not at all self-conscious about the ragged breathing being pulled from his mouth almost at a frantic rhythm now. 

Remus wasn’t really thinking any longer, not thinking about what this meant and not thinking about what could go wrong. He’d done that already, and in spades — the last month had been solely focused on doing just that, it seemed. And the rush of feeling that that subsumed him as Sirius slowly dragged his teeth along the side of his neck further reinforced that he didn’t want to run from this anymore. And it felt too right to keep fighting. This was where he was meant to be. In this moment, with Sirius. 

When he felt Sirius’ left hand shift over to stroke along his length, his own right arm jerked up reflexively, moving quickly to reach behind him and settle onto Sirius’ head, his fingers burrowing themselves into Sirius’ silken hair. He pulled less than gently, never able to hold back that impulse and eliciting another groan from Sirius, and he swayed his body backwards to press against him in the same lazy rhythm of Sirius’ stroking. 

Remus arched his neck, and Sirius’ lips were quickly there to meet his own in a kiss that Remus could only describe as violent, teeth and tongues crashing against each other as their frantic breathing joined together into a jumble of staccatoed gasps. They stayed like this for a while, enjoying the build up that Remus was sure now that they had both thought about for a very long time. 

Sirius’ other hand left the side of his ass for a moment, before returning between them, slicker now than it had been before, and slowly moved down to tease with gentle assurance at his entrance. 

It had always been like this with Sirius: sure hands, confident strokes, always certain that he was doing exactly what Remus wanted, or, more accurately, exactly what Remus hadn’t even realized that he wanted until Sirius did it. But as Sirius took his time preparing Remus, touching Remus, kissing Remus, there was an echo of disbelief, of exhalation, there in the energy of all of it. And that was something new. It didn’t take long before Remus was pleading to Sirius, whispering rapidly in French, and begging to feel him completely. 

Sirius groaned and shifted slightly to oblige Remus’ request. He moved slowly, and with control, giving Remus time to adjust. But it didn’t take long, and Remus pushed back against him assertively, thrilled when a gasp of breath quivered out into the space behind him.

“ _I’ve thought about this for so long, Remus,”_ Sirius murmured once he had rewrapped his arms around Remus, one at his waist and the other up around his shoulder, _“how it would be if you gave me the chance to have you like this again_ ,” and Remus worked hard to lower his breathing so that he could pick up on every single word whispered against his ear. “ _I thought about it all the time. But you did_.” 

“ _I did_ ,” Remus managed to pant after a moment, if only to encourage Sirius to keep talking.

“ _I thought I might have to live the rest of my fucking life without touching you again, that it would only ever be in my mind._ ” Sirius pushed himself into his body harder, stroked him tighter now, and Remus wanted to respond, but the only thing that left his mouth was a deep cry pulled from the depth of his stomach and hoarsely out of his throat. 

Remus, in the throes of it, wondered why a word had never been created for the particular feeling — he was so out of his element, lost in some sort of space where he was surrounded by nothing but Sirius, and Sirius’ hands, and Sirius’ voice — terrified but satisfied indescribably, freed but held, these contrasting feelings fighting against each other all at the same time to create a sense of freefall unlike anything he had ever felt before. 

They quickly fell into a rhythm, but Sirius seemed to delight in making sudden changes only to catch Remus off guard, to hear him cry in surprise at the new angle, or to see him lean his head forward between his hands to desperately allow more air into his lungs as Sirius kept going, never halting his movements until they each finished minutes later, only moments apart, Sirius’ chest still curved around him and glued against Remus’ back, and Sirius’ name still glued to Remus’ lips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Here he is, the penultimate chapter, and he's another big one. The last one will be as well. Fun fact: I thought this story would end up around 60k words but here it is now, about to pass 100k. Crazy.
> 
> 2\. Thanks for all of the amazing comments on the last chapter, I knew it was an important one and I feel so accomplished knowing that I did them both justice. Now I'm working super hard on creating the perfect ending :).
> 
> 3\. I posted a link for this fic's Spotify playlist in the end notes. It has all of the classical music from the fic in it, along with a handful of other songs that feel perfect in there as well. I love it a lot, I hope you do too.

“Still D sharp,” Remus felt Sirius mutter against his lips after he’d slid back into bed. Remus wasn’t sure how long Sirius had been gone doing whatever he was doing, seeing as he was a limbless puddle with absolutely no concept of what was going on outside of his own body, let alone able to track the passage of time. But now Sirius was back, and he had pulled Remus back over to him so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other, chests rising and falling softly together. And Sirius’ lips were back where Remus liked them, directly against his own, murmuring and breathing so close that Remus felt it all. 

Remus tangled his top leg between Sirius’ and nestled his hand at the back of Sirius’ head. “What?” he barely sighed out.

“The sound you make when,” a light breath landed on Remus’ lips and he felt the man’s lips smile against his own before continuing a beat later, “well, you know.”

Remus kept his eyes closed but smiled back lazily, because, yes, he did know. Had it always been D sharp? He hummed in acknowledgment; he’d always liked this game, as if Sirius said anything that he didn’t find completely sexy. The irreverent bastard.

Remus lightly massaged at the back of Sirius’ neck, earning him a satisfied sigh that kept the soft smile on his face. “Can we order tacos?” he heard himself mumble, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and depletion, but mostly overflowing with sated bliss.

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed breathily before Remus felt himself being rolled over and pulled on top of Sirius. “You’re just so—“, his arms wrapped around Remus’ shoulder blades and squeezed him with force, “—you’re so… _fuck_. Yes, we can order tacos,” Sirius confirmed before kissing Remus firmly.

“Thank you,” Remus said through a laugh as he nuzzled his face into the other man’s neck. Sirius kissed him once more for good measure on the top of his head before carefully shifting his body over, taking Remus right along with him, so that he could reach one arm down onto the floor to rustle through his jeans and presumably grab for his phone. 

“I could order them too,” Remus muttered, noting that being in a Sirius cocoon wasn’t half-bad and he could get used to this, “you don’t have to do it.”

“Bullshit,” Sirius stated with conviction as he rummaged, “you’ll be limbless for another half hour at least. Limbless,” voice straining as he lifted himself back up, phone now in hand, “...and cuddly and sweet, just how I like you. You’re not to move until these tacos arrive, I just won’t allow it, Remus.”

“What if there is a fire,” Remus reasoned and quickly bit the inside of his top lip.

“I will hoist you over my shoulder and carry you out to safety,” he heard Sirius say.

“Uh huh,” Remus mumbled before shifting himself down about half a foot to place his head on Sirius’ chest. He laid there quietly for a while, basking, while being lulled by the rise and fall of his head every couple of seconds in concurrence with Sirius’ breathing as he poked around his phone for the sake of tacos. “What are you even ordering?”

“Everything, don’t worry about it,” Remus felt the deep vibration of Sirius’ voice against his ear.

Remus laughed some appreciative sound and then took a deep inhale. Leather and spruce and now sweat and sex mixed in there too. It was perfect. “Alright.”

Sirius poked for another minute or two before placing the phone onto the nightstand and resting his hand back on top of Remus’ back with a deep sigh, as if that’s where he’d been wanting it to be all along and dinner had been a mere distraction, and Remus was basking. 

“So that was nice,” Sirius said softly now, hand grazing up to massage at Remus’ shoulder. “Amazing, actually.”

“Mhmm,” Remus hummed as his own fingers danced lightly along the ridge of Sirius’ hip bone, starting to feel closer and closer to the edge of sleep again. 

“What are you thinking about?” Sirius’ voice pulled him back into this plane of reality just a little.

Remus let out a gravelly noise from the back of his throat and was quiet for a beat. “‘A’ for effort,” he finally supplied methodically.

“What?” Sirius clarified.

“Your valiant quest to become a vegan,” he said, walking his fingers up Sirius’ abdomen now.

Sirius barked a laugh that sent Remus’ head up and back down rapidly, and he pressed his hand down over Remus’. “Where did that even come from?”

“But that doesn’t quite work with that leather jacket, does it?” Remus heard himself almost snort, but it was more air than anything else, and a far groggier-than-normal voice. “As if you’d ever give that thing up.”

“No,” Sirius laughed dismissively, like he agreed Remus had a point, “I guess you’re right about that.” 

“Always looked so damn good on you,” Remus opined. 

“Yeah, thanks Rem,” Sirius commented before Remus felt another press to the top of his head and drifted off into a light sleep. 

It didn’t last long, however, as Remus was jostled out of his short nap about 25 minutes later when Sirius’ body slid out from under him as his phone rang.

“Sorry,” Sirius crooned with regret as he slid a pillow underneath Remus’ head where his own body had been, “tacos are calling.” 

“Literally,” Remus managed to respond as he felt his senses started to return to him, realizing that his new sheet was covering him now, “Don’t apologize, I’m the one who demanded the blasted things.”

“You just looked so peaceful is the thing,” Sirius explained as he pulled on the discarded pair of jeans that had been thrown on the floor, and Remus felt a surge of something he couldn’t name over the fact that he was privy to this again.

“Your shirt is out in the living room,” Remus said when Sirius seemed a little lost as he looked around the room.

“Ah, that’s right,” he said, turning to walk out the door, and threw back over his shoulder, “Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Remus waited to hear the front door of the apartment close before he got out of bed to grab a new pair of boxers and meandered out into the living room to find his own discarded shirt. He pulled it on quickly and moved into the kitchen, filled up two large glasses with water, and set them on the table. 

Sirius returned only a couple of moments later, now equipped with about four takeout boxes and the aroma of otherworldly Mexican food surrounding him like a delicious cloud. Remus smiled widely at him, noting that his hair was a dead giveaway of the activity they had been partaking in less than an hour ago — that his own was probably at least as disheveled — and he grabbed a couple each of plates, napkins, and forks to bring over to the table. 

“What did you get?” Remus asked, and he figured that the smile plastered on his face wouldn’t leave for the rest of the day. Or maybe for the rest of the year.

“The usual,” Sirius drawled ever so slowly, knowing that he was keeping Remus in suspense. “Carnitas. Al Pastor. Shrimp. One chicken, because we know it’s not always the most exciting, but hey, this is a new place for you so you might as well give it a try,” and Remus nodded.

“Um, did you happen to get—“ Remus started, peeking into one of the bags.

“Carne asada nachos?” Sirius asked, putting his hand on a different bag.

“Uh, yeah,” Remus laughed.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and answered playfully, sliding the bag towards him, “Of course I did.”

“And some green—“ Remus began.

“Salsa? Yep,” Sirius pre-empted with a pop, nodding toward the same bag.

Remus’ hands went slack after he peeked inside, and he tipped his head toward Sirius. “Fuck,” he said flatly.

Sirius raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll never question you again,” Remus promised as he re-engaged with his task and began pulling the nachos and salsas out.

“Would save you some time for sure,” Sirius smirked as he began opening the other to-go boxes of food, and Remus’ stomach growled immediately at the sight of it all. “Go for it,” Sirius laughed, gesturing a the table at large. 

Remus obeyed immediately, bathing a carne asada taco with salsa verde before quickly lifting it to his mouth for the first bite. “Oh my fuck,” he moaned, “These are stupid.” 

“Yeah, this is the best place,” Sirius confirmed, going for his own taco, “Wait until you try the carnitas, the ends always have the perfect amount of crisp.”

“Can’t wait,” Remus said before taking another gargantuan bite. He finished the first taco quickly before grabbing for a napkin, and he sat back for a moment to wipe his hands off, casually reflecting that this was right about the time that he would normally start to freak out — somewhere after sex and in close proximity to post-sex dinner. 

But Sirius was here right in front of him, a bit of red salsa smeared on the left side of his lip, and Remus couldn’t pick up on any anxiety at all associated with this entire situation, no matter how hard he tried. It all felt alarmingly alright, great actually, and Remus decided to let it stay that way. However, just as Remus reached out his hand to grab a chip from the pile of carne asada nachos overflowing from the clamshell box in front of him, the door swung open with a bang, and he nearly fell out of his chair as Sirius groaned loudly.

“She’s home!” Marlene’s voice rang throughout the open area of the apartment. She locked eyes with Remus in a moment of surprise, and a beat later, a large smile grew onto her face. “Hello there, boys.”

“How was your pottery class, Marlene?” Sirius asked as he took another bite and stared at her with a vacant expression.

“Oh, good. Imaginary, as you are well aware,” Marlene crooned, kicking the door shut behind her and locking it.

“Right,” Sirius dead-panned with a full mouth.

“Well it looks like you both had a successful evening. I’m glad to see that I had some positive impact on this… this reunion, going to my _ceramics class_ and all that,” Marlene continued as she removed her jacket and scarf and hung them up by the door.

“Where did you actually end up going?” Sirius asked, disregarding everything else she had said and Remus laughed at the disappointment scrawled across her face. Shock and awe didn’t work on Sirius Black, but she should have known that by now.

“Benji’s,” Mary answered, “I helped him do his laundry so he bought me a cookie.” 

“Riveting,” Sirius said as she hummed in the affirmative.

“Would you like a taco? Or some nachos?” Remus asked, hoping that the attention to the food would take away from the obvious fact that he was still only in boxers and a rumpled t-shirt and the myriad directions in which Sirius’ hair was pointing screamed ‘SEX’, and he gestured to the boxes of food on the table. But then again, she already knew, so perhaps Remus was merely hoping that the food would distract her from launching into a conversation about it.

“Yeah, sure,” Marlene shrugged and walked to eye the various tacos.

“The al pastor is Sirius’ favorite, but I’m all about the carne asada,” Remus instructed as she responded with a murmur of interest and went straight for the nachos. 

“What do you have going on tomorrow?” Sirius asked, and Remus looked up to see that the question was directed at him. 

“I’ve got an interview actually,” Remus answered sheepishly, “at the Manhattan School of Music.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius beamed and Remus couldn’t hold it back any longer, so he reached across the table to use his thumb to wipe away the salsa that was still lingering under Sirius’ bottom lip like bad lip-liner. If possible, Sirius’ smile grew even brighter, and Remus pulled his mouth into a firm line to keep his own smile at bay.

“But that is first thing in the morning, should be done by noon at the latest. Other than that I’ll just be back at Julliard practicing Beethoven,” he continued.

“I’ve got a show in Williamsburg at 8pm,” Sirius said, dusting his hands off before going for a nacho, “I’d love it if you came. James will be there—”

“Who else is playing with you?” Marlene asked before Remus could even form a thought.

“I’m not talking to you, Marlene,” Sirius countered with a pleasant sort of voice that was obviously fake to anyone with ears, chip suspended in the air.

“Hey, fuck you, this is my apartment,” Marlene reminded him, and she took his chip.

“Marlene!” Sirius turned his head up in her direction, and his tone changed to something far more upbeat now. “So good to see you! Would you like to come to my show tomorrow night?”

She seemed to think about it for a second. “Nah, I’ve got plans with my vibrator,” Marlene supplied offhandedly, crunching on the nacho.

“I hate you,” Sirius said with the same amount of sincerity in his voice that Remus had heard when they had been discussing their breakup only hours earlier. 

“Aw, I love you too,” Marlene uttered sweetly as she planted a kiss on top of Sirius’ head before snatching one more taco and heading in the direction of her bedroom. “Nice hair by the way,” she added before closing the door behind her.

Sirius’ blinked his eyelashes twice at the closed door and reached for his glass. “Charming girl, such a delight,” Sirius sighed before taking a long drink of water. 

“Could be worse, though,” Remus supplied, holding out a perfectly topped nacho to the man across from him.

“Hm,” Sirius reasoned, ducking over and pointing at his face, “I suppose that’s true.” Remus stuffed the nacho in his mouth; Sirius was remarkably pleased, evidenced by the sound that came out of his mouth as he started to chew, and they were quiet for a few moments as they continued to eat.

“So what about this concert tomorrow then?” Remus pushed his bare foot on Sirius’ ankle to give him a little nudge.

“Oh, yes,” Sirius explained, “It’s at a small venue near my flat. More of a dive bar this time.”

“Well that’s interesting,” Remus commented, brows lifted, “Just think of what your mother would have to say say.”

Sirius laughed and nodded knowingly. “Yeah there’s something about having a classically sophisticated instrument like the violin being played in a dive bar that I just can’t get enough of,” he elaborated, “I mean, it is decently up-scale, but still, when I’m up there it can feel like I’m the only one who has ever done it before. I love it.” 

“Right. And also, whoever is interested in getting drunk and listening to a stringed instrument is my kind of person,” Remus said in the middle of a bite, “But anyway, I will be there.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, slowly going for his glass of water again.

“Sure,” Remus confirmed easily, “It’ll be good for me to get out. Socialize and all that,” he finished, waving a hand dismissively as he went for his own glass.

Sirius hummed, glanced down as he swirled it around, and looked back up at Remus. “Stay at my place afterwards?”

Remus narrowed his eyes as he took this all in — it was amusing to say the least — and smirked. “Are you… nervous?” he asked.

“What?” Sirius clarified abruptly.

Remus pursed his lips for a moment. “Are you nervous to ask me to spend the night when you were just railing me against the headboard,” he asked, leaning on his elbows.

“Remus Lupin,” Sirius gasped with surprise.

“I’m just saying…” Remus said, raising his palms up lazily.

“Hold on, shut up for a second,” Sirius held out his hand to make sure that Remus quieted down. Remus raised his eyebrows in curiosity, ready to receive whatever was coming next. “Do you realize that you have run away from me during approximately 92 percent of the interactions we have had since you returned to New York? Excuse me that this,” Sirius gestured widely between them, “this, openness to affection is a bit of a shock to me. Excuse me for treading lightly.”

Remus took another bite and chewed slowly with a smile forming on his face as he thought about Sirius’ words. “That’s fair,” he conceded.

“Thank you; it’s nice to be acknowledged,” Sirius sat up straighter now. “I came over here hoping that you would start to talk, low expectations and all that. I didn’t anticipate,” Sirius laughed through an exhale, “such a wonderful _reunion_ as well, so to speak. Didn’t expect _all_ of my dreams to come true all at once, so I’d rather not risk fucking it all up from here on out. Give you time to think, since as I am sure you are aware, you tend to do a ton of that.” 

Remus laughed softly as he nodded and stood up from his seat at the table. He stepped over to Sirius, who had piveted his body around the armless chair so that he was fully facing Remus once he closed the short distance. Remus pushed Sirius’ legs apart and stood between them, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other at the back of his neck, and leaned down to initiate a slow, languid kiss. Sirius’ hands latched right back onto his waist as he responded, a soft moan leaving his mouth that Remus was happy to swallow. As the kiss deepened, Sirius’ hands made their way underneath the bottom of his boxers, moving up his thighs and landing on both sides of his ass. His fingers kneaded into Remus’ flesh strongly, suggestively, and Remus melted further into him; and he wondered if his body actually started to morph into some sort of human-jellyfish hybrid whenever Sirius touched him like this.

“I need to leave soon,” Sirius pulled back a centimeter to mumble against Remus’ slickened mouth, “I need to get back to practice before tomorrow. I wish I had brought my violin with me here, but yeah.” Remus’ breath hitched as Sirius hands continued to explore, softer but more determined now. Focused. Remus’ jaw slacked and Sirius smiled against him. “Let’s go take a shower,” he whispered with a sure voice, always in control when it came to things of this nature, “come on.”

*****

It felt weird, to say the least, walking around Williamsburg again. A lot had changed, as was typical for an area that’s been the “up-and-coming” hip young adult mecca for a while, but the vibe was still the same. Remus had always loved it here. He’d loved being with Sirius here. Maybe one day he would be back here again permanently — that would be a good goal to set — but for now he felt more content than he had his entire life with where he was at, both literally and figuratively. 

Remus found the bar quickly, and had arrived early, as Sirius had suggested, and his eyes found Sirius the moment he walked in. He was leaning forward on the bar, laughing as he talked to the bartender, a cute gal with dark purple hair and a nose ring, and Remus assumed that this was a place that Sirius frequented by the ease of their interactions. 

“Hey,” Remus said as he reached the bar and leaned his hip against it lazily. Sirius turned his head at his voice and another bright smile formed on his face, which went and caused something funny to happen to Remus’ stomach. 

“Hey there,” Sirius greeted him and brought a hand to his shoulder, squeezing affectionately before dropping it back down to the bar. “Do you want a beer?”

“A beer would be great,” he nodded and Sirius went on to order some local brew that he swore Remus would love. As the bartender moved to grab it, Sirius turned his body to face Remus, and his eyebrows raised a micron as he fully took Remus in.

“I cannot believe you still have those fucking jeans,” Sirius laughed loudly, but he couldn’t seem to be able to pull his eyes away from Remus’ lower half.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remus responded nonchalantly, working terribly hard to not break into a smile that would completely give him away.

“Uh huh, a total coincidence I’m sure,” Sirius scoffed with a smile as he turned towards the bartender and the beer she had just placed on the bar. “By the way, Dora, this is Remus.”

“I figured,” Dora smiled as she waved in Remus’ direction, and Remus noted that she had an accent similar to Sirius’. “The whole tall with massive hands thing was a dead giveaway.” 

“Uh, thanks?” Remus asked as he fought the urge to wrinkle his face up. They weren’t _that_ noticeable, but Remus thought it better not to say anything more about it to one of Sirius’ friends.

“Remus, this is my cousin, Dora,” Sirius said, nodding at her.

“Your cousin?” Remus repeated as his whipped back to look at Sirius. “What?”

“I know, shocking,” Sirius commented while she nodded knowingly, “Dora moved here a couple of years ago. She goes to Parsons.”

“Fashion design, very cool,” Remus said as he took a drink of the beer and Dora gave a hum in the affirmative. “Fuck, that is _really_ good.” Both Dora and Sirius beamed at his reaction and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve before continuing. “And it’s nice to meet you Dora. How do you like the US?”

“Been great so far, but I’m probably spoiled being in New York City, aren’t I? It’s like a fashion show every day,” Dora answered with a smile that exposed her canines before she looked to her right as a large group of people walked over to the far end of the bar. “Ah, I better get working, though. It was nice to meet you Remus, maybe we can all get together later,” she called over her shoulder as she moved towards the group. 

“Nice to meet you too,” Remus responded quickly, noticing that the gliding quality to her footsteps was just like Sirius. He leaned his forearms on the bar, mirroring Sirius’ stance and bringing them to the same level; it was nice to meet Dora, but Remus couldn’t deny that he was glad he’d been left alone with Sirius before the rest of the gang started to show. “Hi there,” he said softly. 

“Hey,” Sirius breathed as his eyes locked with Remus’. “How did your interview go?”

“Pretty great,” Remus answered and another smile blossomed onto his face. “We all clicked very quickly. And the music program sounds great, I’d have a lot of leeway with the curriculum. So I’m very optimistic.”

“Fantastic,” Sirius’ smile now matched his own, “they would have been crazy not to be die-hard Remus Lupin fans already, but now that they’ve seen him in the flesh,” Sirius gave a dramatic huff, “poor sods never stood a chance. And good thing too, it saves me a trip over there to beat them all up.”

“Well nothing is certain yet,” Remus corrected him with caution, but he felt his heart grow a size anyway, “so I’ll still need those fists on call.”

“They are merely your servants, waiting patiently for your call to action,” Sirius mused in too reverent of a tone for this topic.

“That’s just what I need. An army of fists,” Remus replied nonsensically, and Sirius huffed a laugh and leaned a little closer to him, and Remus could smell the scent of his hair. They stood in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, before Remus moved his hand over to let a couple of fingers lay lightly, surreptitiously, on Sirius’ wrist. “When does your set start?” he asked. 

“About fifteen minutes,” Sirius flipped his hand over and squeezed Remus’ fingers. “I’ve already got everything set up.”

Remus nodded while not looking at anything in particular, “How long is it?”

Sirius laughed lightly and rubbed his thumb across Remus’ hand. “Why? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Remus bobbed his head in feigned thought. “You could say that,” he murmured, lips turning up at the side.

“And here I thought you liked my music,” Sirius chided, staring at Remus’ mouth now.

“Shut the fuck up,” Remus laughed as he nudged his shoulder against Sirius’, “You know that _everybody_ loves your music.” Sirius hummed and nudged Remus back before the two of them were pulled out of their tunnel-visioned conversation by a loud and all-too-familiar voice.

“Well, doesn’t this look cozy,” James observed, coming up right in their space, and Remus immediately straightened himself out, probably out of habit and a general aversion to the kind of tone James’ voice was laced with — smug and knowing, and way too perceptive. But Sirius stayed where he was, looking just as comfortable as he had been before the intrusion. 

“What are you talking about James?” he asked nonchalantly, and Remus had to hand it to him, the man gave nothing away at all.

“Your shoulders were touching,” James observed again with supreme coolheadedness, and Remus was grateful that they were, otherwise he would have seen their hands, and that would have been a dead giveaway.

Sirius wrinkled his nose for a moment as he looked blankly between Remus and James. “I think you’re a bit delusional, mate.”

“Nah,” James retorted shortly and just stood there. Remus felt his eyes narrow at his newfound reticence.

Sirius chucked back after a moment, “You’re reaching. An overreaction,” his enunciation precise.

James leaned in further, swiveled his head to look down his nose at Sirius, looking from one eye to the other, searching for something, anything at all. However, Sirius’ expression remained the same — a blank slate, unperturbed, unbothered. After a moment, James’ posture relaxed. “I have been known to do that,” James conceded flatly, and Remus reacted immediately with one uncontainable laugh. He wondered whether or not that unreadable interaction between the two of them had led James to (i) truly believe that there was nothing new to report between them, or (ii) if he and Sirius had silently agreed to table it just then and James was now acting ignorant just for Remus’ sake. Remus never quite knew with the two of them; it was a language for two people and two people only.

“Well I’m gonna go take a piss,” James proclaimed before heading to the bathroom at the back of the bar. 

Remus let him get a few more steps away before he asked quietly, “Is it bad to say that I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right?”

“Not in the least,” Sirius assured, “I’m sure that’s the normal reaction, actually. Apparently he can be quite annoying sometimes.”

“Alright. Good.” Remus smiled and took another drink of his beer. It really was a good pick. “I didn’t ask yesterday, we got a bit preoccupied, but are Frank and Alice playing with you again tonight?”

“Yep, we’ve got a great thing going. Frank is going to be only on keyboard tonight, should be fun.” Sirius drummed his fingers on the bar as Remus felt his eyes linger on some area around his mouth again. “Should be fun,” he repeated, one finger tapping at each syllable.

Remus bit down on his bottom lip in an effort not to smile too widely, and he pulled his eyes away from Sirius, thinking that he should probably avert his gaze to something else before giving James more ammo for his theory. He was in luck, in this aspect anyway, when he saw Peter walk in through the entrance, accompanied by some kid in a suit who must have been another college intern for the firm. Remus waved at Peter to get his attention, and he smiled when the two of them started to make their way over. 

Peter gave a half-hearted wave when he spotted Remus, and considering that Remus had never seen Peter go above a level three in excitement, he thought that ‘half-hearted’ was pretty good. The guy behind him waved with so much enthusiasm that the contrast was comical. 

“Hey guys,” Peter mumbled, and Remus laughed as he wondered what Peter sounded like when he was actually happy. “This is Trevor, he’s a new intern in our group.”

“You dragged him all the way to Brooklyn?” Sirius asked as Peter ordered a whiskey and coke or something like that, Remus wasn’t paying too much attention. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Dragged me?” Trevor laughed, and his tone of voice was the exact opposite of Peter’s. Excited, engaged, cheery. “I begged to come. I love music. All kinds.”

“Alright then,” Sirius answered, but Remus sensed that his voice was laced with skepticism, probably due to how many interns James had surely paraded to Sirius’ shows before, “you’ll have to tell me how you like it.”

“I’d love to,” Trevor chimed as his posture straightened up as if he had just been given an important job. James probably loved him, Remus thought as he lifted his beer to his lips.

“Let’s grab that table,” Sirius murmured to Remus before grabbing his drink and leading Remus over to one of the larger tables by the stage.

“I can’t believe you have a cousin. Like one that you talk to and all that,” Remus commented as he took the seat next to Sirius. 

“I know,” Sirius laughed, “I’ve had to research how to be a good family member while not being too overbearing. It’s been an adjustment.”

“Sounds like there is a story in there,” Remus commented.

“A long one. I’ll just say that it involved a surprise delivery of groceries being dropped onto the hardwood floor, including a particularly delicate jar of tomato sauce, after I walked into her apartment without a prior forewarning to find her and a date in a compromising position,” Sirius explained, ending with a brief grimace and nod.

“Oh god,” Remus cringed.

“Yeah, and there I was, thinking I was doing something good. Something kind-hearted. Nope,” and the last word popped out of his lips. “So since I do have a key in case of emergencies, there is a new rule that I give her at least a 45 minute warning.” 

“Well that’s good, it all worked out,” Remus said amusedly, “I do love a happy ending.”

Sirius laughed through his nose. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, and they fell into silence, just looking at each other again, until Sirius opened his mouth again to speak, probably to avoid kissing Remus in public judging by the look on his face, and Remus was grateful for the distraction of conversation. “Anyway,” he continued, “before the rest of the table fills up and I have to go up on stage, let’s talk about how you are going to scare James tonight.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted. “What?” he inquired.

“Don’t you want to? To get him back for sneaking up on you?” Sirius explained as if this was the most normal desire in the world, “It’s the perfect opportunity, tons of people around to see it.”

Remus’ eyes widened as he considered it, and the image of ruining James in front of a crowd of people did sound incredibly gratifying the more he pondered. “I guess so… but is it even possible?”

“He’s not a bloody superhero, Remus—“ Sirius started.

Remus snorted so loudly that it cut Sirius off. “Yeah, well obviously. His socks rarely even match.”

“Well, that’s not fair, this one is a point of pride for him, something he’s known around the office for. Crazy Jim and his crazy socks. ‘What kind of mad genius would ever wear one sock with lightning bolts on it and the other with jelly beans?!’ It’s the talk of the office!” Remus rolled his eyes. It was so, so stupid. “But yeah, of course he is scareable.”

Remus turned his glass in a circle on the table before setting it down and looking back over at Sirius, determined now. “Alright, what’s the plan then?”

“Just go to the loo right now; he’s over at the bar and probably about to come over here. When you get back, sneak up behind him and squeeze him at the waist,” Sirius explained with incredibly precise instructions, like he had thought about this before. “Are you going to do it? It’s going to be so funny, I can guarantee it.”

“Alright,” Remus confirmed before standing up and pulling his eyes away from the silver sparkle of Sirius’ eyes that always seemed to shine whenever he was being mischievous, also thinking that he wished it was a couple of hours from now and he and Sirius were at his flat. But he walked toward the bathroom anyway and just lingered against the wall as he watched James make his way over to the table with a pint of beer and a stack of glasses.

“Hey Remus,” he heard a familiar voice say and gasped lightly in surprise when he saw Mary gliding up next to him now.

“Mary, I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said as he pulled her into a big hug.

“I didn’t think you’d be here either, it’s a nice surprise. So, wait, you’re back for good now?” she asked with excitement, and Remus looked back to her after seeing that James, Peter, and Trevor had now all taken seats at the table.

“Yeah, officially moved in with Marlene now,” he confirmed, “It’s been such an easy transition, actually.”

“Especially now that you have all of us too, I hope?” Mary tacked on with a sweet smile.

“Absolutely,” Remus confirmed softly, and it was the absolute truth. “I love everyone that I got to know at the Philharmonic. I’m honestly sad I’m not a fully-fledged member.”

“Aw, well you’re our honorary member. Really, we’ll all make sure that you’re invited anytime we go out. Oh, and you have Marlene too, so there’s no way we’ll lose touch, even if you wanted to.” Mary lifted whatever cocktail she was drinking to her lips, but pulled it back down before even taking a sip, and instead asked, “How is your mom by the way? Sirius gave me a short overview of what’s been going on with her, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. Thanks for asking. Her surgery went great, except for the scare we got before Christmas, the one I’m sure you heard about.” Mary nodded and Remus was grateful that he didn’t have to go into detail. “But ever since she recovered from that, it’s all been so smooth. Her scans all look great, she’s gained weight, she has more energy than she has in a very long time.”

“Oh Remus, that’s great. I’m so happy to hear that,” Mary said, lifting her hand up to squeeze his forearm.

“Thanks,” he said with deep sincerity. “It’s, um, it’s so crazy how well things have been going since then. Not just my mom, but everything. It’s a little scary actually.”

“Don’t be scared, you deserve all the good things,” she offered, pursing her lips.

“Thanks,” Remus said again, he was full of thanks in this conversation, but the comment felt strange. “It’s just odd, you know? When you set your mind up for the worst but the opposite happens instead? It’s been difficult to wrap my mind around.” He leaned his head back against the wall, knowing his comments felt vague even to his own ears, and thinking that Mary probably felt a little unsure of what to say in response. “I’m so grateful for it all, of course. Unbelievably grateful.”

Mary hummed with a long nod, and Remus got the impression that even if she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, she saw right through to the place where Remus was coming from, and that was enough for now. “Of course you are. Let’s catch up soon, for real,” she said gingerly and lifted her drink to her lips, and Remus thought that was a good way to end the topic.

“Absolutely, Mary — I want to hear all about you too. Are you going to go sit with all of them?” he asked as he gestured over to the table. “I’ll be back over there in a couple minutes.”

“Yep,” she nodded, but her eyes were now transfixed on the table. “Who is the blonde guy with James?”

“You’ve never met Peter before?” Mary shook her head. “He works with James, really good friends with him and Lily and Sirius.”

“He’s kind of cute, right? Like I’m not going crazy or anything, am I? He’s cute?” Mary asked, squinting her eyes as she continued looking.

“Why are you asking me?” Remus laughed. “If you think he’s cute, go talk to him. He’s great. Really funny in a unique way, and also very single.”

“Yeah I think I will, I have a thing for sweet blonde boys,” Mary commented aloofly with a nod, and Remus thought about how much he wanted to watch this play out. “Let’s hang out soon though, okay? A museum or coffee or anything unrelated to music.”

“I’d love to,” Remus quipped, and she gave him a wink before heading over to the table and promptly grabbing the empty seat next to Peter. 

Remus half-watched the table interact for another minute, thinking about how effortlessly everybody fit in together, how rare that was, how astounding that he fit right in too. Into this new life of his. When it looked like James had launched into a story, evident by the sweeping hand gestures that he was making, Remus slowly began to walk back towards the table, approaching from an angle that he was certain James couldn’t see. When he was a couple of feet away, he caught on that James was in the beginning stages of planning a surprise birthday party for Lily at the end of month.

The moment seemed right for attack when James started detailing the syringe-shaped ice cream cake he’d custom ordered from a local bakery, and Remus moved in swiftly and squeezed quickly at James’ waist. James cut off what he was saying, but gave no more significant of a reaction, as he slowly turned his body around to look Remus straight in the eye — a look of smugness written all over his face. Maybe he was a fucking superhero. What a joke.

“Hello Remus,” James crooned, “that’s cute. That’s real cute that you thought you could pull that shit on me. That you don’t realize that I have a seventh sense about whenever somebody is plotting to take me down—“

“Sixth sense I think you mean?” Trevor corrected and James gloating face fell into the blankest look that Remus had ever seen. It was rather frightening actually.

“ _Seventh_ sense, Trevor. My sixth sense is my ability to sniff out whether there is any gluten that Lily could accidentally eat — _and no that is not the same as the basic sense of smell, it takes much more than that._ And please don’t correct me in the future,” he added before turning back to Remus, smirk back on his face. “It’s cute that you think we are equals in the realm of surprises. That just because those fingers can make magic on a piano means that they could make magic on this body of mine, how presumptuous if you—OH MY FUCKKKKK,” James screeched in the highest pitch that Remus had probably ever heard, which was saying a lot, right after Sirius had crept up behind him and squeezed at his waist while yelling his name loudly in his ear. James’ scream was piercing, far from the masculine pitch his usual voice took on, and Remus felt tears of laughter began to roll down his face at the utter silliness of it all.

“You did that on purpose,” Remus managed to say through laughter to Sirius, who was positively beaming now, “You knew it wouldn’t work when I did it and you were setting it up for that.”

“I had to disable his seventh sense,” Sirius explained mildly, laughing through his nose as he massaged James shoulders for a second, then went to take a seat next to Remus.

“ _Oh my god_ , that was the highest scream I have ever heard,” Remus continued as he noticed James watching him with an amused smile now and looking between him and Sirius, always the good sport, and always happy to be showered by any type of attention, well, except from Trevor apparently, “you were gloating so hard and then, _oh my god, that scream._ My abs are going to be sore because I don’t think I am ever going to stop laughing.”

“It was masterful, Sirius, bravo,” Mary said heartily, “it’s made the trip out here already worth it and you haven’t even started playing yet.”

“I wish I had known, I would have recorded it,” Peter piped up.

“Huge missed opportunity, Pete,” James said, pointing at him, “Especially because it’s never going to happen again.”

“It’s true,” Sirius confirmed. “He learns. Can only ever use the same trick once on him. I’ve been saving that one in particular for _years_ , so you should all consider yourselves lucky for laying witness to it.” 

The table all nodded in agreement, and just as each person was going around trying to imitate the iconic screech from only minutes earlier, they were pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of Frank and Alice.

“Hey everyone,” Alice greeted cheerfully as she hugged those she knew, including Remus, which he thought was sweet considering they had only met for about ten seconds before, and introduced herself to those she didn’t. Frank, in contract, just gave a light wave, a man of few words, Remus guessed. “Sirius? You ready to start?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sirius nodded. He gave Remus’ knee a quick squeeze underneath the table before pushing his chair out and following them up onto the stage. 

The set consisted of one long three-part piece, a fucking atonal jam, like Ravel’s Tzigane on DMT, if Remus had to put a one-sentence description to it. If the audience was overwhelmed by the intense range and volume of timbers in the first movement — one second light and groovy pizzicato and in the next an absolute hurricane of percussive strings — coming at them from the stage, you’d never have known it. By the start of the second movement, Trevor had even stuck his hands up in the air as if he were in church ready for worship. 

The third movement was something different entirely, almost a call-back to new-classical now, long and sweeping vibrato and soft piano arpeggios wafting through the space like a dream. Although far from having a perceptible meter to dance to, this was Sirius’ work after all, Remus looked over to see Mary pulling Peter up to dance with her — or, sway aimlessly with nowhere to be. Peter’s eyes were wide, but he followed Mary’s lead anyway, and after the three beers he’d had in short order, he quickly started looking like he was clocking in at about a six on the happiness scale as their bodies slid together. 

By about the moment Mary and Peter got up to dance, leading a few others to do the same, Remus couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer Sirius would actually stay in the symphony. Original compositions, intimate audiences, breaking out of classical norms was his thing. _This_ was his thing and there was nobody else who could do it like he did. He was awe-inspiring, and so profoundly in his element, there was no denying it. 

Remus knew Sirius well, even despite the years they spent apart — he knew the ins and outs of Sirius’ upbringing, his favorite foods, his biggest pet peeves, and although it caused him a lot of turmoil for many years, every other irrelevant fact about his life was etched into his memory too. When they spent time together, Remus would forget just how much of a musical prodigy Sirius was, more focused on whatever the two of them were joking about in the moment, or more recently, how much Sirius had grown as a person. They had always gotten along so well that music, despite being their most deeply shared interest, became nothing but white noise, fading away into the background, as it was overshadowed by the sheer strength of the raw connection between them. 

However, it was moments like this, performances like this, when Remus was reminded of it. Of the sheer talent that came through whenever Sirius picked up that violin. Of the lively and enthusiastic reaction of the audience, a _far_ cry from anything he had ever seen in response to a violin before. Or a piano for that matter. And it was overwhelming, there was a brightness to his presence on stage now that was overwhelming, perhaps related to the rush of changes brought into Remus’ life in just the last 36 hours. Something about seeing Sirius completely in his element brought out contrasting feelings that bounced around uncomfortably in his chest, and he wasn’t sure what it all meant.

The trio wrapped up after playing for nearly an hour, and they received a boisterous reaction from the entire bar during their finale, including, but certainly not limited to, a particularly piercing wave of ambulance sounds from James. The three of them packed up their things quickly after the show, left their instruments on stage, and then rejoined the table. 

“You’re hanging out with us tonight?” Mary asked happily when Frank and Alice sat down and everyone had finishing shouting various accolades to them and Sirius.

“For a little while, at least,” Frank answered as he grabbed two glasses and began filling them with beer. “Babysitter can stay a bit later tonight.”

“Perfect, this is all wonderful,” James sat up straighter. “I’ve been brainstorming about the surprise party that I’m planning for Lily, and it’s helpful to talk about with the people who know her. And you two are just about her favorite people ever, so you’ll have to be there.”

“That’s so sweet,” Alice chimed in with a bright smile as Sirius mumbled something to Remus about how much she deserved it with everything she had to put up with all the time, “she’ll love it, especially something thoughtful and romantic. And we’d love to help, what are your ideas so far?”

“Well,” Mary jumped in before James could respond, “we quickly shot down the idea of an adult bounce house and decided on something intimate in their backyard. Something whimsical and calm, with strings of fairy lights and beautiful music, and we’ll put in some sort of dance floor. We’ll set up a bunch of heaters too -- it’s definitely going to be outside because winter and cold can be so romantic when the set-up is right. We are going to bring in a chef to cook various Italian dishes, Lily’s favorites, and James already ordered an ice cream cake for dessert.”

“I’m going to cry,” Alice reacted after a pause, her jaw noticeably slack now. James was grinning from ear to ear. “It's simply perfect. What can we do to help?”

“Well, thank you for asking, Alice, there is something you can do,” James answered easily.

“Name it,” she said.

“I’d love for the music to be a string quartet that performs a bunch of her favorite songs. Would you happen to know of anyone who could make that happen?” James asked coyly.

Alice smiled. “I can wrangle a good quartet together easily,” she said, “First things first, Sirius, you in?”

“Listen, James,” Sirius started, leaning forward as he made eye contact with James, “I’d love to contribute to this romantic gesture, _if_ you can answer me one question.”

“Anything, my beloved child,” James answered.

“What,” Sirius paused and a devious smile formed on his face, “is the difference between a cello and a bass?”

“Oh, he’s got a jokes! I only adopt him into my own damn family, a downtrodden orphan before I came along, adopted into the most loving family of the century, and he’s still got never-ending jokes,” James exclaimed. “Well Sirius, I will answer that question when you can tell me the difference between an EBIT and an EBITDA.”

“Fuck yeah, turn up the fucking heat!” Peter slammed his pint glass down on the table, “It’s about time we get some damn representation around these here parts.”

“It’s actually super simple—” Trevor attempted to swoop in but was cut unsuccessfully short by James’ booming voice.

“NO, TREVOR. Nobody likes a show off. This is Sirius’ question to answer, of course I know you know the difference, you work in accounting and it’s a basic function of an income statement. It’s like asking Remus where middle C is on the piano, _Trevor, come on._ ” James stood a deep breath and Remus almost felt bad for the poor kid across the table, but he was clearly 100% unperturbed, no fear of James at all, and it finally started to click for Remus why he wasn’t James’ favorite. “Sirius?” James said sweetly now, turning back to his best friend.

“Touché,” Sirius coughed with a nod. “You got me.”

James gasped. “So you’ll do it?”

“Obviously I wasn’t going to say no, but I am glad I got to see that little,” Sirius waved his hands out in front of him, “ _overreaction,_ I’ll call it.”

“Excellent,” James’ smile returned in full force, and he sat up straight again and poured himself another glass of beer. “I’ll text you and Alice a set list.”

“Time of My Life, I’m guessing?” Sirius asked mildly.

“The one and only,” James answered.

Sirius turned to Remus as James continued listing various songs to the rest of the table. “It was their first dance at their wedding,” he said quietly as he leaned his mouth closer to Remus’ ear, and Remus thought about the scene that he’d been fast asleep for in Cleveland. “James always fancied himself as a ‘Patrick Swayze’ type.”

Remus hummed and a quiet laugh came out, and although he had been feeling a bit reserved since Sirius’ performance, he thought he was able to hide it well in the context of the other peoples’ conversations at the table. He could lie low a bit before, but with Sirius’ eyes on him now, he tried to perk himself up, and he didn’t want it to put a damper on Sirius’ night in any way, so he took another breath and responded, “Patrick is a good one, can’t fault him for that.”

Sirius nodded in agreement and took another sip of beer, his eyes almost hyper-focused on Remus now, and Remus wondered what exactly the other man was thinking about, but he had to look away because it began to make him a bit nervous. Sirius knee leaned against Remus’ and the touch was nice, and Remus looked back a beat later. “Hey, are you having a good time?” Sirius asked.

“Mhm,” Remus nodded with energy, but of course Sirius was going to see through it, “it’s all been great. Your performance was incredible. Seriously, I don’t even know how I would even begin to describe it.” 

Sirius didn’t seem convinced, not surprising. “Do you want to go outside?” he asked directly, and then he nodded once. “Let’s go outside.”

Remus shook his head quickly, “What will they all think though?”

Sirius furrowed his brows and his mouth twisted up for a moment in a look of confusion. “I don’t care, it doesn’t matter,” he said quietly as he pushed back from the table before standing up to grab his coat. “Come on,” Sirius shot him one last purposeful glance before turning and heading for the door. Remus chanced a quick look at the rest of the table, noting that only Trevor seemed to be looking at them, although James did make a quick glance over before casually looking away again, and he quickly pushed out of his chair, grabbed his coat too, and followed where Sirius had disappeared out of the front entrance of the bar.

Remus found Sirius as soon as he left the warmth of the bar and was hit with a burst of January weather. He was learned up against the wall, about 30 feet from the exit, and watching Remus as he walked over. It smelled like pizza.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as Remus took a spot on the walk next to him. “You seem off, it’s worrying me.”

Remus nodded as he took a few long moments to collect his thoughts, tapping his fingers rapidly against the brick wall in a pattern that would have produced total gibberish had the wall been a piano. “I keep waiting to freak out about all of this.” His fingers tapped harder, as if that would somehow make it easier to decipher what he was feeling. “We slept together yesterday and now I’m at one of your shows. And you really are incredible, by the way. _Really_ incredible. It's difficult for me to comprehend. Like an overdose of emotions, so many beautiful things all at once. You. Your music. You. My mom. Brooklyn.” He inhaled deeply, thinking that maybe breathing the cold, cleansing air would give him more clarity of mind, a better ability to explain. “And you, Sirius. But I haven’t yet. Freaked out, that is.”

“So let me get this right. You are freaking out about the fact that you haven’t freaked out yet? Is that accurate?” Sirius clarified slowly. Remus closed his eyes for a moment and shook with a silent huff of incredulous laughter, because yes, that is exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m ridiculous,” Remus chided, tipping his head to the side and letting his eyes close.

“No. Well, yeah... maybe,” Sirius offered, “But I don’t think I really understand yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, cringing vaguely at himself.

Sirius made a hushing sound. It was nice, especially with that accent. Comforting. “Maybe just tell me what you’re worried about? We can start there. Please?”

Remus opened his eyes again and let them linger on a fire escape across the street as he tried to figure out the best way to formulate the mess that was currently residing inside of his mind. What was he worried about? It was a good question, a simple question, and Remus figured that maybe if he just started talking then the answer would reveal itself on its own. 

“I dived fully back into this all at once, after spending months around you, but never letting myself even consider the possibility that this could happen,” he started, finally moved his eyes back to Sirius’ face, which looked far too concerned given how much Remus knew that he cared about Sirius. “But it all felt so right, and it was all so easy — the talking and the sorting things out — and fuck it, I didn’t want to run from it anymore. But I was just sitting in there while you were playing thinking, ‘What am I missing? What did I not think about? It can’t just be this easy, can it? Things aren’t ever this easy, right?’” 

He sighed out something akin to relief. This was what had been bothering him, the anticipation of regret, or the anticipation of disappointment in himself for giving into something that would only hurt him later. Those feelings would have come along if the situation had been what he had assumed it to be for the last seven years. But he had been wrong about it, and perhaps that was still sinking in. He had been straight-up wrong about Sirius. And thus, that feeling had not come.

“I don’t know, Remus. Maybe it is this ‘easy’,” Sirius said,lowered his head to look and the ground and shook it as he laughed, his tone darker than before. “But that’s an odd way to put it, you know? It’s not as if it was _easy_ for the last three months, or whatever. It was actually incredibly difficult for me, having to interact with you, wanting to be with you so badly when you wouldn’t give me the time of day or even let me have any sort of actual conversation with you. You shut me down so many times, some of them probably without even realizing it.” He was quiet for a minute, and Remus let the silence hang there because something on Sirius’ face let him know that he wasn’t quite finished speaking yet. “And for you too, Remus, I don’t think it could have been that easy, I mean. It couldn’t have been pleasant to have so much unsaid between us, so many unanswered questions. You had to see me for the first time since we had broken up while thinking that you never meant anything significant to me. I know that wasn’t _easy._ ”

“That’s true,” Remus answered slowly, “nothing about being around you was ‘easy’. But it is scary how easy it has been ever since… ever since we cleared the air, I guess.”

Sirius laughed softly again, lighter now, probably at Remus’ choice of words. “I think it would be silly to suggest that one long talk and some truly fantastic sex afterwards is all it’s going to take,” he started, “but I also think we got to know each other again since you came back in November, even if it was from a distance for a while there. I think it was good for us; frustrating yeah, but it got us here. And it feels solid. And fuck, it sounds cliché, but I wouldn’t trade that for anything, easy or not.”

Remus bobbed his head slowly and was silent for a while. He thought about everything that had transpired between the two of them since he had returned to the US — the only sound around them the rush of taxis passing by and Brandon Flowers singing about the young breaking away, billowing out from the speaker inside the pizza shop next door. He thought about Sirius’ patient attempts to reconnect that were never pushy or inappropriate, his active facilitation of Remus’ integration into the symphony _and_ with Remus’ reintegration into their old group of friends, his repeated efforts to talk with Remus about their past despite Remus’ resistance to it and his inaccurate assumptions that had represented Sirius in an unfair light, and, most notably, his visit to Cleveland, for fuck’s sake, which had to be the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for him. 

It was a lot. Sirius had done a lot.

“Maybe all of the ‘freaking out’ already happened,” Sirius suggested, his voice breaking the silence between them and pulling Remus back into the present. 

Remus looked at Sirius thoughtfully, tracing the lines of his face with his eyes. “I think so, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, a little surprised, a little breathy. Probably very relieved. Remus took one of his hands in his and ran his thumb along the row of Sirius’ knuckles.

“You’ve been incredible,” Remus said earnestly and Sirius leaned his head back against the brick wall, eyes closed with a contented smile on his lips. Remus leaned back as well, enjoying whatever this feeling was that buzzing between them. A minute passed before he spoke again. “This might… this might just be something that happens sometimes. I take a while to adjust, and this isn’t something I ever saw coming. It was truly never even a possibility in my mind. It would have hurt me too much to even think about.”

Sirius opened his eyes, brought Remus’ hand up to his mouth, and kissed it softly. “I know. It’s fine. It’s good. I like knowing what you are thinking.”

Remus turned his body towards Sirius, took one step forward, and pressed his lips to Sirius’. The conversation was gentle, Sirius was gentle, and now their kisses were as well. It wasn’t how they had treated each other back in college — ‘passionate’ and ‘humorous’ and ‘casual’ were more apt descriptors — but they were older now, smarter, more aware that love this great didn’t come around all that often, and more aware that nothing ever lasted forever, so it was important to cherish what one loved while he could. But Remus did hope that this lasted forever, and in that moment, he was sure that Sirius felt the same.

“Do you still want to come back to my place?” Sirius asked in something slightly louder than a whisper as he held onto both of Remus’ forearms. “You don’t have to, you know, if things are happening too fast. We actually do have all the time in the world now.”

“Do you still want me to?” Remus asked.

“Yes,” Sirius breathed out, and although his voice was quiet, the message was firm. “But _do you_ want to?”

“Yes,” Remus answered truthfully, enjoying the warmth of Sirius’ hands in the cold. “Can we just leave now?”

“Whatever you want,” Sirius replied, rubbing circles, smiling softly, “I just need to go back inside and grab my violin.”

“Do you think I should go say goodbye to everyone?” Remus asked as he felt his nose wrinkle at the thought of the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ that would inevitably follow when they left together.

“No. It doesn’t matter,” Sirius laughed softly and Remus knew that he could read into exactly what he was thinking. “They don’t need to know anything about it until you’re sure—“

“I am sure,” Remus cut in.

“Until you’re more comfortable,” Sirius corrected, and a warm hand moved back up to massage lightly at the base of his neck. “Until you know for certain that there will be no more freak outs. Until you trust me again.”

Remus found it difficult to swallow and he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat. It was odd, to be with someone who knew why he was acting a certain way, why things were putting him off, before Remus had even figured it out for himself. It dawned on him just how completely Sirius knew him, inside and out, and that in itself was not something Remus ever imagined could exist. For anyone. But certainly not for himself. He found it hard to breath when he recognized all that that must mean. 

“Yeah, okay,” he finally spoke up, voice a little hoarse, “go get your stuff then. I’ll just wait here.”

“Great, I’ll be back in a second,” Sirius said quickly before letting him go. He disappeared back into the bar and, with a familiar coil developing in his stomach, Remus realized just how impatient he had become to get out of there and have Sirius to himself.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I have changed the rating from mature to explicit. I had every intention of keeping it mature, I really did, but it got away from me and I'd rather be safe and bump it up to E :).

Sirius stuck the key in the lock, jiggled it to the left, and paused. “Are you ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” Remus confirmed impatiently from where he was standing behind Sirius, and at the door to his flat.

“Are you sure?” Sirius reiterated with careful precision.

“Sirius, open the door,” Remus ordered.

He went on, “Because once I open this door there’s no going back.”

“Is there a dead body in there or something?” Remus asked, thinking that was a reasonable question by this point.

Sirius turned around so his back was flush against the door, hand still holding onto the keys. “You want to do this?” he confirmed yet again.

“Yes,” Remus said firmly.

“Once we go in, this is a thing. This,” Sirius gestured a hand between the two of them, “is for real.”

Remus pressed his lips into a firm line to hold in the laugh threatening to escape. “Alright,” Remus replied.

“You’re,” Sirius started, tipping his head forward to regard Remus from below his lashes, “sure?”

Remus sighed, rolled his eyes, and before Sirius could react, Remus had him pushed up against the door, pressing his body against Sirius’ before kissing him soundly. He moved his lips to the corner of his mouth, pausing for a moment. “Sirius,” he whispered, “open the fucking door.”

“Okay,” Sirius whispered back, and when Remus stepped back so that Sirius could turn around to pull the keys out of the door, Remus noticed that his hand was wasn’t so steady. This was very new — Remus had never known a Sirius that wasn’t completely sure of his next move, and Remus’ heart nearly burst from how endearing it was. He wanted to keep him safe. 

The door opened, and Remus walked in first as Sirius held it for him. The space was wide open, larger than Sirius had given it credit for, with exposed brick walls and wooden beams. So cool and modern that Remus almost felt like vomiting all over to tarnish how cliche and utterly perfect it all was. 

“It’s disgusting, I hate it,” he stated sarcastically as he paused in the center of the living room and turned slowly to take it all in. Sirius had shut the door behind him and laughed softly at Remus’ very Remus-like reaction. He said nothing though, and instead opted to lean back against the door and watch as Remus looked around. 

There was a painting on one of the walls, one he remembered from their apartment, something modern that Remus certainly wouldn’t have been drawn to unless someone else pointed it out first. But Remus found it interesting now — there was something about Sirius finding beauty in things that Remus didn’t initially give much artistic value to that Remus appreciated a lot more now, somehow. Beauty from his own perspective was easy to find. But to be introduced to it through someone else’ eyes? That was perhaps even more powerful. 

Remus continued to look around. The furniture was minimalistic and everything was very clean. Had Sirius always been this clean? Was he this clean now or had he done this all after Remus agreed to come over? His eyes moved back around to Sirius to ask him, but his question was halted in his throat when he saw that Sirius was still leaning against the door, looking uncharacteristically still. Remus recalled the moment from only minutes ago, when Sirius had looked so unsure at the door, and decided to reroute completely. Or, more accurately, just cut to the chase.

“Can you come over here please?” Remus requested gently, protectively.

Sirius’ eyes widened a little more than usual and he gave Remus a quick nod before walking over to the middle of the room. Remus grabbed him by the hand as soon as he was within reach and pulled Sirius close again, wrapping his arms around his waist, their noses pressed against each other. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Remus asked as a hand found its way under the hem of Sirius’ shirt, and he began to rock their bodies from side to side. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Sirius hummed as he leaned more into Remus and wrapped his arms around him as well, and Remus guessed that Sirius was thinking about his question, so he waited quietly and enjoyed the easy closeness that he’d gone without for so long. He moved his head to rest in the crook of Sirius’ neck, something he didn’t think he would ever tire of, and waited until Sirius broke the silence. 

“Maybe I’m having my own little moment of freaking out,” Sirius muttered into his hair.

“Are you?” Remus asked and he planted small kisses on the area of Sirius’ neck that his mouth could reach. “Well I guess it is your turn after all, so I’ll allow it.”

Remus felt the laugh in Sirius’ chest for a moment before Sirius paused for a beat and then shrugged his shoulders in the next. “It’s all just fallen right back into place all at once,” he murmured, his head leaning against Remus’ now. “I’m like a kid who was just given the biggest chocolate bar in the entire world and now I have to figure out what to do with it. But I’m still in so much awe because it’s such a huge bloody chocolate bar.”

Remus felt his body shake lightly with amusement, “Such a way with words.” He heard Sirius sigh a laugh before one of Sirius’ hands reached up to nudge at his chin. Remus obliged and when he lifted his head back up, Sirius met his gaze immediately.

“But Remus, if you disappear on me again, I will hunt you down this time. I will hide out in your bloody piano and wait until you start playing Rach or something, I’ll wait until you hit that point where you are completely sucked in and unaware of everything around you, and I will pop out and grab you and force you to talk to me,” Sirius detailed, and Remus had the strong intuition that he wasn’t joking even slightly, “Okay?”

“That’s fair,” Remus managed to get out, “I mean, I hope it doesn’t get to that point. It won’t. And I’m not sure I will ever feel safe playing the piano again,” Remus paused as Sirius laughed before continuing a beat later, “but yeah, that’s fair, Sirius.”

Sirius lifted a hand to Remus’ jaw and kept it there, his thumb rubbing a circle on Remus’ cheek. “I can’t believe you still have _those jeans_ ,” he whispered and Remus broke out now into full laughter, “I don’t even know what to do with myself when you’re wearing those fucking jeans, it’s absurd. I had to get through that entire fucking performance when you were just sitting there, acting normal, just drinking that stupid beer you were so happy about. Acting like nothing crazy was going on, acting like you weren’t wearing denim than was handcrafted by the gods on that perfect arse of yours.”

Remus pursed his lips and hummed ruefully. “I have a confession,” he admitted.

“What’s that?” Sirius asked a little hoarsely, and Remus noted that his hesitance had lifted, apparent by the path that his hands and mouth were now pursuing.

“I did it on purpose,” Remus whispered into Sirius’ ear, giving his tone a sort of dangerous edge to it that he was certain Sirius would appreciate. 

“You don’t say,” Sirius remarked with faux surprise, but he seemed far more interested in stripping Remus of his shirt, which Remus facilitated happily before pulling Sirius’ up and over his head as well. 

“I like your place,” Remus heard himself say as his hands landed back on Sirius’ now-bare chest, but whatever other nonsense he was going to say was cut short by the press of Sirius’ lips to his own. 

Sirius’ hand was glued to Remus’ lower back as Remus felt himself being led into the bedroom, eyes closed through it all, his body on autopilot now. He’d probably get a proper ‘tour’ later, and that was just fine with him. His eyes snapped open when he felt Sirius’ hands reach for the button on his jeans and he quickly moved to grab his wrists before he could successfully complete the task. Remus looked back up and saw that Sirius’ eyebrows were higher now, not so much in surprise, but probably with intrigue about Remus’ next move, as he had rarely ever been one to fight for control.

Remus moved his hands down to Sirius’ hips and pushed him a couple of steps backward until Sirius was positioned beside the large bed in the middle of the room. He sank down onto his knees, hands still gripped on Sirius’ hips, and began trailing kisses below Sirius’ navel, dragging his tongue just above the waistband of his low-slung jeans when he reached it. Sirius’ lower stomach twitched involuntarily, and a smile grew on Remus’ face from the simple accomplishment and the opportunity to turn it into a whole lot more.

Remus made quick work of the button and zipper before he pulled down Sirius’ jeans and boxers in one swift motion. He sighed when met with the close proximity of Sirius’ cock. He moved one hand to stroke him steadily for a few moments, giving himself time to fully appreciate the sight in front of him before wrapping his lips around the head, slowly swallowing him down, humming when he heard Sirius’ choked groan. 

Similar sounds followed, and it wasn’t difficult for Remus to get lost in it all — indecipherabe moans leaving Sirius’ mouth, mixed with frequent frantic sighs of things like “ _Remus, fuck, yes, just like that”;_ fingers grabbing roughly at his hair, pulling just a little bit too hard in a way that made every sensation heightened for Remus; the increasingly insistent thrust of Sirius’ hips moving in tandem with the strong grasp on the base of Remus’ head; the taste of warm precum against his tongue — all of it just further encouragement that what he was doing was driving Sirius crazy. And thus in turn, driving Remus even crazier, evidenced by the strain in his jeans that was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. But that would come later. 

When Sirius came, both hands moved up into Remus’ scalp and tugged at his hair, but with a bit of restraint, Remus sensed as he swallowed. He pulled off gently, after Sirius had finished, and planted a kiss on the side of Sirius’ pelvis, lingering there for a while as he listened to the steadying cadence of his breathing. Sirius eventually took another long inhale and sat down on the bed, one hand propped behind him and the other moving to trace the outline of Remus’ mouth with his thumb. 

“Get up here,” Sirius ordered hoarsely after a few beats, but his tone was soft, and Remus moved his hands onto Sirius’ kneecaps and pushed himself up and forward, meeting Sirius’ mouth with his own before being pulled closer.

Sirius kicked his jeans off of his ankles and shifted himself back on the bed. Remus crawled after him until Sirius wrapped a hand around his waist and maneuvered Remus to lie directly on top of him, meeting his lips in another kiss as soon as Remus got there, letting the minutes tick right on by like that.

“I’m peeling those bloody jeans off of you as soon as I regain feeling in my limbs, I hope you know that,” Sirius mumbled against him and laid his head back heavily on the pillow, one leg propped up now and securing Remus in place on top of him. “You are not getting off easy for that one, Lupin, I’m warning you now. That fucking mouth of yours,” he raised an eyebrow, “Fuck.”

“I don’t know,” Remus mused as he used one finger to trace from the top of Sirius’ sternum down to his navel, enjoying everything that was happening more than he’d ever be able to express, “You aren’t 20-years-old anymore. Your refractory period may have changed since then.”

Sirius choked on a sound, something perfect for communicating indignation without the need for silly things like words, and Remus smiled with satisfaction when Sirius, through a sudden burst of energy, rolled the two of them over so that their positions had reversed. Sirius on top of Remus now, hands pinning Remus’ above his head, and long legs tangled together. “Well you’re still a fucking tease, _that_ certainly hasn’t changed.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Remus asked, and although he had meant for it to come out as a challenge, his voice had given him away — soft and cracked, and not even half as playful as he had wanted it to be.

Sirius breathed in deeply as he scanned the planes of Remus’ face beneath him. “I do probably need a good 15 minutes,” he said as he began to lithely move his body down Remus’ chest, kissing a trail along the way before reaching the waistband of his jeans. He settled himself there comfortably, elbows on either side of Remus’ hips, chin propped up just above the button, eyes making direct contact with Remus’, a smirk placed perfectly on his face. “But I’m sure I can find _something_ to fill the time until then.”

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, because really, what else was there for him to say. This was how it had always been. As soon as Sirius turned his attention to Remus, always so sure of himself and sure of what he wanted, he was a goner. Remus’ breath became deep and heavy as he became wholly pliable to anything that Sirius could ever want. Maybe it would be embarrassing, being so absolutely affected by it, had he been with anybody else. But Sirius loved him like this, and that was… well, that was beyond anything that could Remus could ever describe in words. 

Sirius leaned forward and grazed his lips along Remus’ lower abdomen, causing his stomach to convulse, and his fingers made quick work of opening Remus’ button and zipper. Sirius slid his hands up his sides before dragging them right back down again and Remus lifted his hips, anticipating correctly that Sirius wouldn’t wait too much longer before working his jeans off of him. 

“They fit so perfectly,” Sirius admired, and Remus took a moment to be grateful that however much Sirius did love those jeans, he loved having Remus without them even more. 

Sirius shifted his body, moving down the bed as he pulled the jeans completely off and cast them aside. He repositioned himself where he had been before, but now there was no clothing between them, and Sirius’ mouth was floating directly above his bare cock. Remus watched Sirius — because what else could he possibly do in that moment — watched as his hair fell to the side of his face and grazed along Remus’ thigh as he leaned his head even lower, watched as his hands moved to grasp firmly at his hips to hold them in place, watched as his mouth moved closer to him, so close that Remus could feel the breath leaving Sirius’ mouth.

“Turn over,” Sirius breathed, not even a centimeter away from him, and Remus let his head fall back, not sure what to do with the burst of frustration he felt. “Turn over,” Sirius repeated, this time with a swat to whatever part of Remus’ ass that he could reach. “Trust me.” 

Remus rolled his body over and found that it was worth the effort when Sirius’ hands became extremely interested in every new inch of skin that was uncovered. Sirius lifted himself up onto his knees, better positioned his body behind Remus, and began to maneuver Remus’ legs and hips. He lightly pushed at the insides of Remus’ thighs, nudging him to spread them further apart, then ran his hands up the back of them, over his ass, and then landed them finally onto his hips. 

Sirius pulled his hips up and back and Remus’ hands reacted quickly, grabbing for the pillow in front of him and bringing it under his collarbone and face. He had a feeling that he would probably need something to hold onto with whatever Sirius was planning. A hand pressed down heavily on his lower back, and Remus felt it arch accordingly, unconsciously. Satisfied, Sirius slid the hand further up Remus’ spine, pressing his torso down, and further down still, sliding it until his palm landed between his shoulder blades. Still exerting a fair amount of pressure, he used his other hand to pull Remus’ hips further back against him, elongating him, creating an even slope down to the base of his neck. 

Sirius dragged his right hand back down Remus’ spine and let it slide over to grasp Remus’ other hip tightly, symmetrical grips now. Remus breathed into the pillow, making a pact with himself to stop thinking about what was happening and to just enjoy it. Because as he heard Sirius shift his body down to settle in between his calves, his breathing picked up and he knew without a doubt he was going to enjoy it. The image in his own head of Sirius positioned behind him was more than enough to send any anxiety crashing away, and as Sirius began to slide one of his hands up the cleft of his ass, Remus had no idea how he had been able to avoid Sirius for as long as he did.

Sirius was moving slowly, slower than he had the night before, and whether he was dragging it out for Remus’ sake or his own, Remus didn’t care. He thought there was something otherworldly about being so completely exposed to the only person in the world who had the power to ruin him. That was the entire appeal of love though, Remus thought, sex was just the corporeal form of it. And then he felt Sirius’ mouth against him, and everything he was already feeling was catapulted into a different dimension entirely. 

Remus felt his arch back even more dramatically to meet the press of Sirius’ tongue, but Sirius was the one in control, and he anchored his grip to ensure that Remus stayed at the pace he was very purposely setting. Remus groaned into the pillow, perhaps with a hint of frustration, but mostly from the sensation of Sirius’ mouth sending shock waves up his body.

Sirius kept his pace steady, tongue and fingers working in tandem, and Remus was oblivious to something as insignificant as time while Sirius was keeping each movement so purposeful and precise. Eventually, Sirius began to speed things up; the increase was barely noticeable at first, but when both of his hands moved to wrap around Remus’ thighs to pull him impossibly closer, a loud groan was torn from the back of Remus’ throat and was only fractionally muffled by the pillow in front of his mouth. 

The reaction seemed to satisfy Sirius, and after it happened once more, thanks to a particularly adventurous push of Sirius’ tongue, Sirius pulled his head back and moved it up to plant a kiss on Remus’ lower back. 

“ _Told you you could trust me,”_ Sirius drawled as he pulled Remus’ knees down the length of the bed to straighten him out. He was nestled between Remus’ thighs now, and when Remus’ whole body hit the bed, Sirius draped himself down on top of him, held up on one elbow, mouth nipping at the skin behind his ear. 

“ _Yeah, I guess I’d consider that acceptable,_ ” Remus managed to breath as he pushed himself up slightly by his forearms. Sirius’ fingers dug further into his skin and he laughed softly.

Sirius was hard again, Remus could attest to that firsthand as Sirius’ cock moved lightly along where his mouth had been just a few moments before. So much for that joke earlier, Remus thought as he felt the rest of his rational thoughts begin to melt away. It clearly wasn’t a problem, not that Remus was ever actually worried, but the jab did work to get him motivated. Duly noted.

Sirius procured lube from somewhere, gone for a split second before returning, this time his knees settling themselves on the outside of Remus’ thighs. Remus knew this position, one that Sirius had always been enthusiastic about. And therefore, Remus had a special appreciation for it as well. His back arched up in anticipation, the friction that movement created for himself an added bonus. 

A couple of slickened fingers made their way inside of him, pushing in and out, slowly again. Sirius’ other hand kneaded into the left side of his ass, spreading him more, and for the second time that night, Remus wished he had a better view — Sirius’ hair a black curtain in front of his face, his jaw slacked, his breathing heavy, and his eyes glued to the task that his hands were currently attending to—

“ _Now remember Remus, we’re going for D sharp here_ ,” his gruff voice pulled Remus out of his imagination, and Remus groaned when Sirius removed his fingers, but the sound of a condom wrapper dissolved his brief disappointment and he gripped the pillow harder. A hoarse sigh was pulled from his mouth when he felt a familiar nudge against his entrance and he pushed back against it reflexively, unthinkingly. “ _And there won’t be any stopping until we reach perfection_ ,” Sirius directed far too soberly considering that he was pushing slowly inside of Remus at the same time. 

Sirius paused for a solid 30 seconds to let Remus adjust, but no more, soothing hands running down his back before he pushed the rest of the way inside and established a slow but steady rhythm. “Okay, Remus?” Sirius prodded him unrelentingly, both literally and verbally as one of his hands dug more roughly into his hip.

Remus choked out another sound that should have made him feel embarrassed, but fuck it, Sirius loved it and so did he. “ _I’ll try my best_ ,” Remus breathed coyly after recovering his voice, and he briefly wondered if he was living in a dream right now. It was Sirius, but older now, even more self-assured, although 22-year-old Remus would never have believed that was possible, “ _but you know I’m not much of a vocalist, so you might have to_ … ah, fuck _... you might have to work for it_.”

Sirius laughed, loudly this time and full of air, and sped up the thrust of his hips. “I think I can oblige you there,” Sirius switched to English and somehow it sounded even sexier than the French. 

They stayed there for a while, Sirius modifying his position slightly at all the right times — two hands pressed to Remus’ lower back as he kneeled upright, then one shifting to the back of Remus neck as he leaned forward against him, the angle of his thrusts becoming that much more poignant, eliciting a deep groan from Remus and a satisfied “there it is” from Sirius — until Sirius’ hands landed gently on Remus’ shoulders and the movement of his hips came to a gentle halt. 

Remus took the opportunity to catch his breath, his arms straightening out and his forehead falling fully onto the pillow as he felt Sirius pull completely out of him. A second later, the bed dipped and Sirius appeared next to him. Sirius came closer as Remus instinctively shifted his weight to the side, ducking into the free space and wrapping his arms around Remus. Remus nuzzled forward enough to press his lips’ against Sirius’, and the reciprocation was eager, both of them enjoying the intimacy of simply kissing and feeling the others’ bare skin as some sort of intermission to what had just transpired between them, and what was sure to happen next. There was a certain magic to it, really, being this close, time drawn out so indulgently, as their hands scoured every inch of each other’s skin that they could reach, taking the time to recommit every peak and valley of others’ body back into their memories. 

Sirius delicately rolled Remus onto his back and hovered his mouth over Remus’ as one hand moved down to begin stroking him steadily. His lips moved to the corner of Remus’ lightly parted ones, and then to the edge of his jaw, landing at the soft spot behind his ear. 

“ _Bend your legs up,_ ” he whispered softly, and Remus shivered at the tone of his voice. They had started out playful and Sirius had been domineering and firm, but something else was taking its place. Sweeter, and deeper. The juxtaposition of it all, the fact that they could have both and so effortlessly move from one to the other, made Remus’ breath hitch. 

Remus said nothing but brought his legs up, planting his feet on the bed, and Sirius let go of him and repositioned himself back between his legs. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath while he watched Sirius maneuver his lower body however he saw fit. A few seconds later found Sirius back inside of him, Remus’ legs bent so that his shins were pressed against Sirius’ chest as their bodies rocked together fluidly now.

Sirius returned to a similar pace, but something about the way they were moving felt more sedate, rich with an intangible sort of gravity now; maybe that was only in Remus’ mind. Everything seemed to slow down as his senses became surrounded by the synchronization of their breathing, the intermittent kisses between the frenzied breaths against each others’ mouths, the quiet whispers of their names that were far less controlled than the words they had exchanged only minutes earlier. 

Eventually Sirius shifted this position, straightening one of Remus’ legs underneath him and throwing the other around his back so that he had the space and use of his free hand to stroke Remus again.

Sirius was close, Remus could sense it by how erratic his breath had become. But Remus came first, the persistent push inside of him and the determination of Sirius’ hand too much to handle for any longer. And he was sure that this was exactly how Sirius had intended for it to go anyway, so it would have been futile to try and hold off the inevitable. His head whipped back against the pillow, neck fully exposed as his back arched and his fingers climbed further into Sirius’ hair. His mouth dropped open with a silent scream as he felt the orgasm rip through his body with force, but Sirius was relentless, and he could only remain silent for so long. 

Remus rode out his release, lost in the wave of sensation that had swallowed him whole. It was a sensory overload that, combined with the rush of emotions circulating between them like a tsunami crashing down, made him feel like he was hanging onto his sanity by nothing but a thread. Sirius must have followed him shortly after because Remus vaguely registered his name in the aftermath, a stillness inside, and then the slow, careful pull out of him.

He felt hazy. Unbelievably satiated and completely exhausted. And then he felt Sirius’ tongue sweeping up his stomach, and he groaned at the awareness of what was happening and was officially pulled back into full consciousness. 

“Sirius,” he whispered, and it was full of so much reverence that it sounded like a prayer. Sirius looked up at him, chin settled gently on his hip, gray eyes soft, and lips glistening. “Kiss me,” Remus sighed.

Sirius moved up to leave a final kiss on Remus’ chest and slotted himself next to him. He propped himself up on one arm to kiss him with soft, languid lips and Remus let his head relax onto the pillow. Remus moved a hand to rest on the left side of Sirius’ chest, instinctively looking for the familiar beating of Sirius’ heart that he hadn’t even realized he’d been yearning for until he felt it against his palm once again. 

So many minutes must have passed like that, lying alongside each other, both barely teetering on the edge of wakefulness, but conscious enough to find each other’s lips again when too long had passed. 

“You’re bigger now,” Remus commented, his voice relaxed, just after Sirius had broken away to look at him.

A lazy hand had started tracing shapes up and down Remus’ torso. “Am I?” Sirius asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Remus confirmed, soft smile on his lips, “Your shoulders are broader.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement and then nuzzled his face into the crook of Remus’ neck before asking, “What else?”

“What else?” Remus clarified.

“What else is different?” Sirius reiterated, muffled.

“Hmm,” Remus considered for a moment. Of course he’d thought about this, probably a thousand times since he had seen Sirius that first day in the auditorium. And then more after that with each additional interaction. It wasn’t a difficult question for him to answer, but he was trying to pinpoint what exactly stood out the most.

“Your face is different. I mean, it’s the same in so many ways, but all of the boyishness is gone. It’s leaner now,” Remus looked up to study Sirius’ face more. Sirius lifted his head up to watch him as he did, and Remus liked that. “More angular. Striking,” he added, eyes flitting across his sharp cheekbones, “More… I don’t know what else to call it but, more _man._ ”

“So more man and less boy?” Sirius said with narrowed eyes and a methodical nod, as if agreeing that was more than likely the case.

Remus laughed, because obviously that would be an appropriate description since he had met Sirius when they were 18 and now they were approaching 30, “I guess that describes everything that’s different about you, though.” 

Sirius’ eyebrow lifted. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” Remus breathed. “Did I already tell you that you’re really fucking talented?”

Sirius scrunched his nose at that, but his eyes shone. “I always wondered if you would like it. I know it’s not the most _melodic,”_ the last word rolled regally off his tongue, and Remus laughed.

“Right, you know classical is usually my jam, but even I can tell when something is innovatively brilliant when I hear it. You’ve always been so impressive, and now you’re…” Remus huffed out an incredulous sound to give some signal into just how incredible he felt that Sirius was, “you’re in a different realm.”

Sirius huffed his own sound and volleyed back, “You too, Remus. I’m in awe of you every time you touch a piano. It’s like it is an extended part of your body, like your fingers have always known exactly what to do. No, scratch that actually—“ he lifted his hand to gesture whimsically, “It’s as if your fingers grew a piano out of them. Which is incredible, Remus, really, they should study you.” Remus snorted before Sirius continued on, “It’s insane how easy you make it look. If I wasn’t thoroughly acquainted with every inch of your body, I’d be convinced that you aren’t actually human.”

Remus couldn’t help it when his free hand moved up to cover his face, the stark reality of the nature of their sexual activities just prior coming back to him like a freight train. In a more sobered state of mind, it was a bit odd for him to reflect back on. But that had always been Sirius —bringing out things in Remus that he never even knew he wanted, until, all of a sudden, he did.

“Well, I’m still not convinced that you aren’t some alien life form entirely,” Remus mumbled, but through a smile.

Sirius peeled Remus’ hand off of his face, and unsurprisingly, Sirius’ face was fashioned with a grin, clearly feeling accomplished he was still able to elicit this particular reaction. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what I would do without it,” Remus shifted the subject back to what it had been. “Without the piano, I mean. Without the obsession of it, you know?” 

“I do know what you mean. Precisely, actually,” Sirius said in answer.

Remus hummed and tacked on, “Especially when things aren’t going so well in other areas of my life.”

“Yeah,” Sirius gave a small, knowing nod, eyes scanning over his face, “I think I can relate to that too.”

“I leaned on it so much when I went to Paris, which was really productive in a circular kind of way, thankfully,” Remus explained, “I was in Paris to play the piano, and I played the piano _because_ I was in Paris and away from my entire life as I had known it.”

Sirius just watched Remus’ face for a few seconds. “Tell me about it,” he requested softly.

“About living there?” Remus clarified.

“Mhm,” Sirius confirmed as he moved his body to settle in for a story, “Tell me about when you first moved there. The hard parts.”

“Oh,” Remus paused for a moment as he thought about that. Nobody had ever asked him that question before, not exactly. “It was stressful at the beginning. I spoke fluent French, you know that, but it had never been tested before, not really. Living in America and having English to fall back on is a lot different than being thrown into a teaching position where I need to only be speaking in French. So that was something that I really worried about first,” he started off with. “Performing was stressful in the beginning as well. I’d performed at Julliard, but that was always under the umbrella of Julliard. It’s weird to look back on it because it was so long ago and it’s all been normalized now, but yeah, it was terrifying. I traveled all around to the theaters, some small and some just absolutely massive. Theaters that I had never been to before, and fuck, I would feel such a terrible pit in my stomach.” 

“That’s a lot,” Sirius commented as his thumb sidled around Remus’ wrist bone, “but it got better, yeah?”

“It did,” Remus affirmed, “And quickly. But the hardest part, and I guess the worst part, was how lonely it would get there, especially at the beginning? The first six months were pretty terrible, and it was something that I just had to internalize. I didn’t want to put that burden on my parents, especially not after everything they had gone through already with my mom, they needed to think that I was happy,” Remus laughed softly, “that I was ‘living my dream’ so to speak. I would talk to Amelia about it sometimes, but that’s about it, and not very often because again, I didn’t want to put it on anyone else.”

Sirius nodded once and hummed softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there for you when you were going through that,” he said.

Remus laughed darkly at the idea, “Yeah, no, that would have been an impossibility—“

“I know, I’m just saying... I worried about that, you know?” Sirius offered, “You have a tendency to feel like a burden when you might need anything from anybody, no matter how much they do want to help. I knew you could deal with it all on your own, you’re really internally strong like that, but I wish I could have helped to alleviate what you were feeling. Which I know doesn’t make sense at all because our breakup was a major factor in it, but yeah,” his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but Remus was watching too intently not to catch it, “I think you get it.”

“I get it,” Remus replied, and he did. He hummed after a moment and continued, “After a couple months, I started to force myself out of my comfort zone, since if nothing changes then _nothing changes,_ ” Remus recited as he waved his hand around lightly until Sirius caught it in his own and interweaved their fingers. “Dated a little, had a few short relationships that fizzled after maybe a few months. ‘Disappointing’ is the word I would use to describe it, maybe it was because I was…” and Remus considered censoring himself for a split second, then decided ‘fuck it’, “I was comparing them all to you. And that was starting them at a huge disadvantage already, not fair at all. Made me miserable too, always hoping something would feel like what I used to have.” Sirius put on a half-smile but it didn’t reach his eyes, and in that moment, Remus knew without a doubt that he got what he was trying to say. “And eventually, dating with any serious intent felt like a waste of time,” Remus explained, “So I kept it casual, focused on the piano and traveling and networking. I was mostly doing an internal rebuild, as I called it in my head at least. Nothing stuck and that was okay — I didn’t try for anything to stick any longer, so then I was never disappointed.”

“It’s so odd to me in some way though,” Sirius laid his head back to look at the ceiling, “that it was so hard for you to meet someone great—“

“It’s not that they weren’t great; I’m sure they were had I ever given them a real chance,” Remus clarified.

“Yeah,” Sirius paused for a while, eyes still glued to the ceiling, and his head bobbed as he must have been thinking about what Remus had just said. “I suppose I did a lot of that too. You talking about your experience is also explaining things to me about myself. It’s almost spooky.”

“You must have had some good relationships though,” Remus threw out, because of course he had wondered about this in great detail before. “You click with people so easily; you’re yourself from the very beginning, never afraid of anything.”

Remus saw Sirius shake his head minutely. “Maybe the bloke was good in the moment, good for ‘right now’. But it’s like I said yesterday, and it’s like you just said too, I would meet people, we’d date for a while, but,” Sirius gave a noncommittal sort of shrug in emphasis of the mundanity of it all, which Remus of course knew all too well, “Pleasant? Entertaining? Absolutely. But was I ever upset when they ended? Not that I can recall.” 

“Really? None of them?” Remus asked, feeling a bit of disbelief as he recalled the haphazard conversation about Liam at Thanksgiving dinner, a guy that Sirius had felt strongly enough about to introduce to his friends at least.

“I would miss them for a short while when it was over, sure. But when we were together, I always sensed something was missing,” Sirius elaborated as his eyes flickered back over Remus’ face. “Things that I took for granted then, with you.”

Remus rolled onto his back now too, following Sirius’ lead to look up at the ceiling. It was crazy how the breakup had affected them differently, and yet all the themes seemed to be aligned. “I looked you up while I was away,” he admitted softly, and for the first time.

“You did?” Sirius turned his head to look at Remus, his voice laced with surprise.

“I tried not to, so I didn’t very often. But it happened on those nights I was feeling especially lonely and couldn’t find anything else big enough to distract me. I probably caved in about once or twice each year,” Remus said.

“And how did that go?” Sirius asked moderately.

“Terrible,” Remus laughed out loud and continued in an amused tone, “Awful. Pathetic. And any other synonym you can think of.” 

“Tragic? Dreadful? Lousy?” Sirius chimed in.

“I’ll select D, all of the above,” Remus said, making a check mark gesture with his hand.

“Disastrous,” Sirius threw out one more in conclusion, enunciating every syllable carefully.

Remus snorted some soft, amused sound. “I don’t know why I did it, it never helped or anything. It was exactly like being allergic to tomatoes and pouring marinara sauce all over my head,” Remus paused as he felt Sirius shake with incredulous laughter beside him, because, what absolute nonsense.

“I’d google you, or worse, look you up on Facebook or Instagram if I was feeling particularly masochistic that day, and it would,” Remus laughed again, which was an odd response to something that used to make him feel like the walls of his apartment were going to keep closing in until they crushed him, “fuck, it would send me down this spiral. I’d see what you were up to — confirm you were still at the Philharmonic, watch your most recent composition to see that, yeah, you were even more amazing than ever — and then I would envision that life I told you about. The one where you had that great weight off of your shoulders to go live out every dream you ever had and I was just some guy from your past.”

A dark groan vibrated low in Sirius’ chest. “I hate it,” Sirius admonished. 

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, wrinkling his nose, “I don’t know if it could have been handled any better though, given who we were.”

“I know,” Sirius sighed. “It’s kind of how it had to unfold, even though I wish I could go back in time just to tell 23 year old Remus that everything would get a lot better.”

“Ups and downs of life, I guess,” Remus supplied, and he was silent for a beat. “Internal rebuild,” he recited carefully, and the way it came out surely made it obvious that it was a phrase he had repeated in his mind over and over again before.

“I started watching baseball because I missed you,” Sirius divulged, because that was apparently what they were doing now.

“Really?” Remus asked quickly, eyes flicking back to Sirius’ face.

“It was the only thing I could think of that made me feel connected to you in some small way,” Sirius continued, still speaking to the ceiling. “You were all the way on the other side of the world and we weren’t talking. So when I thought about us watching the same thing… I don’t know, it was comforting. It let hold me onto something, even as intangible as it was.”

“Oh,” Remus said with surprise, even though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised by these sorts of admissions anymore.

Sirius hummed, and there was easy silence for a while, and Remus reflected on how nice this was, talking to Sirius like this, more relaxed and natural than the last time. 

“You don’t, like, really eat those goo goo clusters anymore, do you?” Remus asked eventually, and he turned to watch Sirius react to the topic whiplash. The huge smile that broke out on his face did not disappoint.

“No, not really,” Sirius laughed and Remus snorted when his suspicions were confirmed.

“All grown up now,” Remus declared, as if ending one’s affinity for sugar-laden snacks was some meaningful rite of passage. “But why did you tell me you did, you doof?”

“To make you laugh, I think,” Sirius supplied, smile still on his face, “Plus, I thought it was really sweet that you remembered; I was _tickled_ by it, you could say.”

Remus released one soft laugh, “You know I remember everything.”

Sirius shifted his body in Remus’ direction and propped himself up on one elbow as his eyes lingered on Remus’ face for a couple of moments. It was sweet; the easy buzz that still hadn’t dissipated between them, and when Sirius leaned down to kiss Remus and Remus kissed him back, slow and lazy again, he didn’t think it would ever be enough.

“Do you want some coffee?” Sirius mumbled against his lips.

Remus’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Coffee?” he said, pulling his nose away to ask in the space between them, “It’s got to be close to 11 now, you insane person.” 

Sirius moaned exhaltantly. “But this is so nice, isn’t it?” Sirius said, nuzzling into Remus in an exaggerated way that felt canine, “Laying in bed? Talking? I don’t want you to fall asleep yet.” 

Remus’ heart grew another size and he didn’t disagree. But first things first. “Do you actually have coffee here?” he asked.

“Remus,” Sirius shook his head in disbelief, “ye of so little faith.”

“You have a coffee maker?” Remus had to follow up with because he didn’t really believe it.

Sirius moved his mouth back to Remus’ ear and breathed against it, “I assembled a pour-over station.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Remus ordered.

“I won’t,” Sirius responded defiantly as he pushed a strand of hair off of Remus’ forehead. 

“Since when?” Remus asked, mouth agape.

“Hmmmm,” Sirius scrunched up his face in thought, as if trying to recall a memory from long ago. “Three days ago,” he announced happily.

“What?!” Remus laughed as he heard Sirius’ phone buzz from where it was sitting on the nightstand. “I can’t believe you.”

“The day before you returned to New York,” Sirius offered with a small shrug, reaching over for it, “I was optimistic.”

“Rightfully so, it seems,” Remus supplied.

“Rightfully so,” Sirius echoed with a playful smirk. “So will you stay up with me?” he asked, lighting up the screen to read the message notification.

“Okay,” Remus conceded, the thought of watching Sirius brew drip coffee in a v60 cone too much to pass up. Although sex was a sensory overload, Remus thought _that_ might be the sight that actually ended him for good, but he was pulled out of his silly thoughts by Sirius’ laugh. He flashed the phone at Remus to read a second later.

**James: Tell Remus that sweater looked just dashing on him this evening**

Then barely after Remus had a chance to register the name on the screen, another text came through.

**James: Although I’m guessing it looked even better on the FLOOR**

Sirius’ interest must have been piqued by the abrupt bark of laughter that left Remus’ mouth, and when he turned to read the screen, he rolled his eyes but looked just as amused. The perceptive fucker, Remus figured they both were thinking just then.

“Mmmm,” Sirius hummed, exiting the messages and ignoring the phone completely now. “He agrees to 11pm caffeine with barely any convincing required,” Sirius said in victory as he rolled away from Remus, his energy evidently returned, and in full. Remus watched as he bounced off of the bed and made a stop at his dresser to pull out a new pair of boxer briefs. “That Remus Lupin,” he said, his tone official, “he’ll do anything for coffee, anything at all.”

“That Sirius Black,” Remus mimicked his tone as he propped himself against a couple of pillows, “absolutely no semblance of a normal sleep schedule. Rumor has it, he can only compose when it’s the middle of the night and there’s someone around for him to keep awake with his crazy ramblings.”

Sirius whipped his head back to look at Remus, hand on his chest, facial expression full of faux offense. “ _Moi_? I feel so exposed.”

“The truth hurts, baby,” Remus offered back, “and you might want to hurry on the coffee because I have been known to fall asleep pretty fast after such a… let’s say, _enthusiastic_ performance like that.”

“I’m going, I’m going, I’m going!” Sirius chimed merrily as he fluttered swiftly in the direction of the kitchen, humming something under his breath that sounded a lot like the second movement of Rach 3 accompanied with lyrics involving words such as ‘slumber’ and ‘party’ and ‘coffee fiend’. 

Remus smiled, and it probably looked totally stupid considering the amount of fatigue he felt mixed with the adrenaline of everything that had already transpired that night. He contemplated the level of ridiculousness his life had reached. It was stupid, really, for everything to be going this well, and it was probably a good idea to force himself out of the bed and enjoy it.

“I’m going to shower,” Remus called out into the kitchen as he rolled out of bed and rifled through the same drawer of clothes that Sirius was in just a minute earlier. He found a pair of red pajama pants and walked in the direction of the bathroom.

“Tons of towels in there, use whatever you want,” Sirius called before the sound of coffee beans being ground took over the entire apartment. “Oh wait,” he called as he paused the grinding process and began to walk over to where Remus was, “let me grab my toothbrush and toothpaste first. I should probably, uh, take care of that.” 

“Understandable,” Remus responded, the hint of embarrassment in his voice impossible to conceal entirely. Sirius passed him, not without a swift grab of his ass for good measure, and quickly grabbed his things out of the medicine cabinet. 

“She’s all yours,” Sirius motioned.

“Thanks,” Remus replied and began to close the door, but pulled it back when he remembered. “Wait. Don’t… don’t make the coffee until I’m out, it’s something that I need to see.”

“Ah, my sweet Remus. I wouldn’t dream of robbing you of that pleasure,” Sirius promised on his way back to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Remus made sure he wasn’t kidding, and was satisfied by Sirius’ general demeanor, “good,” he said and shut the door bathroom door behind him. 

The shower was a nice precursor to the coffee he would be drinking once he was finished, waking his body slowly back up before the burst of caffeine would zap him back into life at this time of night. The shampoo and soap smelled like Sirius, and as he lathered up he laughed, because, well, it was bizarre to be here. But he didn’t bask in it all for too long, he had someplace else to get to, and that was the kitchen. Back with Sirius. And preferably as soon as possible.

Remus dried off and pulled the pajama bottoms back up to his hips before hanging his wet towel and opening the bathroom door. He was met with the sight of Sirius sitting at his keyboard in the living room, likely keeping himself preoccupied as he waited for Remus to finish his shower. Sirius didn’t seem to notice that Remus was back, and that was usually the case whenever he was focused on something. 

The sound coming from the keyboard was soft, not only because the volume was turned down low but just because of the nature of what he was playing. The sound was more melodic, more romantic than what Remus had learned to expect from Sirius. Soft, but still imbued with an almost mathematical complexity, and undeniably beautiful. Something that reminded him of a Debussy composition that was still in the early stages of being written.

Remus listened for a while longer, immensely enjoying watching this process for the first time in a very long time. Sirius seemed to play the same few bars over and over, trying out slight modifications each time until he landed on one he was satisfied with. It was unreal, just how naturally writing came to him. But then again, he was even better now than he had been back in college, it was blindingly apparent, and Remus didn’t want to discount the role that his practice and hard work had played in getting him to where he was now — playing Debussy mixed with Sirius while Remus stood in the corner taking it all in.

“I’ll need to check with an attorney about this,” he finally spoke up, and smiled a little to see that Sirius jumped in surprise, “but I’m pretty sure that it’s illegal for someone to be that talented at more than one instrument. Something about monopolies and barriers to entry, I’m sure.”

Sirius breathed out a laugh as he turned around and his eyes shone brightly, “You like it?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Remus offered as an objective truth.

Sirius smiled and his eyebrows rose up for a moment, “I started writing it in your bed in Cleveland.”

“Oh,” Remus exhaled, feeling gutted. He was incapable of doing anything but standing there for a moment as the implications sunk in, knowing full well how Sirius’ creative process worked, the stages of it. He took a few long deep breaths as he remembered that scene, waking up to Sirius next to him in bed jotting down notes, which now gave rise to the beautiful melody that Remus had just heard being sculpted. “You were writing multiple instruments for it, weren’t you?” he recalled softly, waiting for it.

“Well, there’s a violin,” Sirius acknowledged flippantly, but his eyes were dead set on Remus now.

Remus laughed through his nose, not because there was any humor to be found but, rather, because there were simply no words that could do this moment justice. He covered his face with his hands, both this time.

“It’s funny, actually,” Sirius continued, and Remus kept his hands right where they were for this. “When I started writing the piece, this is exactly what I was hoping for. And now we’re here — and we shagged for a long while and it was brilliant, I think it’s safe to say — and the air has been cleared and then the first time I play it, you’re standing there all flummoxed while wearing my stupid pajamas. And honestly, Remus, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so inspired.”

Remus took another deep breath or two and decided that as much as he loathed the idea, it was time to uncover his face. He dropped his hands and carded one through his wet hair once. “I hate you,” he uttered helplessly after a beat.

Sirius’ mouth slowly crooked to the side as his eyes scanned Remus completely, and they eventually caught Remus’ eyes and settled there. “I hate you too,” he said softly, and Remus didn’t know what to do with himself, because they both knew what that really meant. It was everything, and it was all at once, and he felt it like flames igniting every cell of his body.

So he decided to ruin the moment completely.

“Coffee then?” he coughed, eyebrows raised expectantly, but he didn’t quite meet Sirius’ eyes this time.

Sirius looked down at the floor and his body shook with quiet laughter — as if he had expected it all along — and Remus was once again awed by how Sirius could read him, like there was an underlying current surging from his core that only Sirius was tuned into. That only Sirius had _ever_ been tuned into. And that was a one in seven billion kind of thing, Remus was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :).

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for this fic on Spotify: [Liebestraum Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3KkaTk4i6Og4Pii0qUbOK7?si=7WFuf3GVTtGs4X-JQDYCqA)
> 
> I'm quoththethestral on tumblr now. I mostly just lurk around so don't expect anything too exciting, but I'm there if you wanna get friendly :).


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